


I'm Not Convinced, Alfred

by njw



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Assumed Relationship, BAMF Alfred, Bat Brothers, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Crack Treated Seriously, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Prank Wars, Puppy Piles, The Batbike, Trolling, magical transformation, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: The magician is beginning to tremble, and his left eye is twitching repetitively. “Okay, what the ever-loving FUCK. How is this even fair? THAT is even scarier than your vigilante form! How the HELL do you guys keep doing this. Each of you is somehow more terrifying than the last!”He rounds on Robin, pointing a shaking finger at him. “And what is YOUR name going to turn out to be, huh, CTHULHU?!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [我还不能确定，阿福](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820266) by [Lia_Rivene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lia_Rivene/pseuds/Lia_Rivene)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [I'm Not Convinced, Alfred](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823236) by [baizangzhu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baizangzhu/pseuds/baizangzhu)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has ART! Check out baizangzhu's gorgeous artwork [here.](http://baizangzhufal.lofter.com/post/1d696e34_ef5ca6ea) These are incredibly beautiful pieces and I am beyond thrilled they were inspired by this story. Thank you, baizangzhu!

_“Immobiles!”_ The moron in the fancy fuckin’ bathrobe is waving his shiny stick around and looking way too triumphant for shouting something that, as far as Hood can see, did exactly jack shit.

Red Hood is unimpressed. _Fuckin’ amateur._ This asshole’s gonna be feelin’ the goddamn _pain_ as soon as-

A wave of heat and light envelops Hood and he finds himself unable to move, gloved finger poised on the trigger. A muffled shout from his left, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Robin frozen mid-leap, katana poised to strike, similarly caged in light. The brat’s face is stuck in a vicious snarl.

Well, _fuck._

At least Nightwing and Red Robin are probably-

The magician snickers as he uses his stupid-looking _but apparently actually fuckin’ magical_ wand to waft Nightwing and Red Robin’s frozen forms over and set them down gently on Jason’s other side.

Once he gets a good look at the pair, he wishes he were unfrozen just so he could laugh his ass off at how dumb they look.

Nightwing’s poised mid-motion, erupting out of a deep squat with Red Robin crouched on his thighs, his back to Nightwing, one hand braced on Nightwing’s arm and the other wielding his bo before him.

The magic must’ve hit them while Nightwing was in the act of _throwing Red Robin at the magician._

To be fair, it was probably a decent plan. Hood’s thrown Baby Bird at perps plenty of times before, and it never fails to be both hilarious and effective when Little Red plummets down on their heads in a miniature tornado of armored fists, swinging bo, kicking boots, and _oh fuck_.

Too bad they weren’t a little fuckin’ faster off the mark this time.

The magician’s grinning unpleasantly, greed in his watery gray eyes as his gaze lingers nastily first on one, then another of the immobilized vigilantes. He throws back his narrow shoulders and thrusts out his scrawny chest proudly as he struts over to inspect his catch. “That was so _easy_! I expected more of a challenge from the legendary _Bats_. Still, I’ll get paid once I find out your secret identities; the bidders won’t much care how hard I had to work to capture you.”

Robin and Red Hood both growl, and the magician cocks his head, limp dirty-blond clumps of hair falling over his eyes as a cruel smile twists his narrow face. “Yes, you four will bring a pretty penny. First I’ll sell your identities, then I’m sure there are more than a few wealthy patrons who would be _more_ than happy to purchase _you.”_

His eyes linger lasciviously on Nightwing, and then on Red Robin, and in that moment Red Hood would give just about anything to be able to _move_ so he could happily rip the fucker’s arms off and beat him with the wet ends. “You, in particular,” he murmurs tauntingly to Red Robin, “…already have a buyer. I wouldn’t want to keep the Demon’s Head waiting.”

The magician cackles. “The mistake everyone always makes when they capture any of you is failing to properly immobilize and disarm. Now, I have you frozen, and I’m not about to risk you having weapons or trackers and gadgets hidden away somewhere.”

“My magic spell will take your true, civilian identities _from your very minds_ and revert you to those identities. No masks or gadgets, just _yourselves,_ helpless.” He gives a really fuckin’ creepy giggle, and Red Hood resolves to shoot him in the dick as soon as they get out of this stupid mess.

“Once I speak the incantation, the spell will lift your identity from your mind and voila! Instead of standing there in costume bristling with weapons, you’ll be unmasked and standing there in your day clothes. Much easier to handle for imprisonment and transport and such.”

“You can _try_ not to think of your real identity, but we all know how that goes. Eventually, no matter how hard you resist, your mind will whisper your true name and the spell will have you.”

The magician laughs mockingly, then waves his stupid stick and yells. _“Vincit omnia veritas!”_

“Now… which one of you is going to think of his true identity first?” He grins, looking expectantly from one to the next.

_Ha! We were all trained by the motherfuckin’_ Bat, _sucker! None of us is gonna break before_ you _run outta magic or get tired of waitin’._ Red Hood wishes he were unfrozen so he could snort in derision and make fun of this sad fuck’s dumbass plan.

Like any of them’s stupid or weak enough to actually think of their secret identities. _His_ isn’t exactly that important anyway; it’s not like he’s even officially _alive_ enough to have anything to protect.

Whatever. His face, hell his _name,_ none of it would really give the fucker much.

_Todd derives from the Middle English word for a male fox,_ his brain says, apropos literally nothing.

_Oh fuck,_ he thinks as he feels the magic descending on him, crushing the air from his lungs and making little black spots appear in his vision. _That’s probably not fuckin’ good._

*

Red Robin watches in horror from his frozen position crouched on Dick’s thighs as Red Hood disappears in a swirling cloud of magic. _Oh_ shit, _it already got Hood._

Red Robin’s mind flies, desperately trying to come up with a contingency to fit this situation and _save_ all of them, while skittering away from any trains of thought likely to lead to his civilian identity.

He can’t see Nightwing, but his left hand and both feet provide reassuring sensory input that Wing hasn’t succumbed to the magic yet. Robin is visible and audible, growling ferociously at Hood’s predicament. Or possibly at Hood’s apparent inability to resist thinking of his civilian identity for even an entire minute. Yeah, on second thought it’s probably that.

Red Robin really isn’t sure how Robin and Hood managed to make any noise at all, considering his own vocal cords seem completely frozen along with the rest of his body. He ascribes it to sheer obdurate spite on their parts. If anyone’s going to be stubborn and ornery enough to resist a magic spell just to growl threateningly at the enemy, it’s definitely those two.

The cloud of magic around Hood begins to clear, and Red Robin can’t suppress an internal spasm of horror as he realizes Red Hood is _gone._ He is going to break Batman’s rule if this stupid mage _killed_ Hood-

Horror turns to confusion and relief as the cloud finally dissipates, revealing… a _fox?_ The little creature flicks its black pointed ears as it stands, wobbling slightly on delicate little paws. It has a red coat with black markings on its legs, nose, ears and tail, and soft-looking white fur on its chest.

There’s a white patch on its forehead.

_Oh my freaking Tesla._

“What the-” The magician’s shocked exclamation turns into a gurgle of horrified protest as the little red fox snarls viciously and leaps directly for his throat. _“Get it off get it off get it off!”_

The man staggers back, struggling to dislodge the tiny ball of ferocity as it aggressively bites and claws at his vulnerable eyes and neck. He manages to bring the wand around and wallop the fox in the side of the head, flinging it to the ground and causing it to yelp in pain.

“I’ll _get_ you for that,” the magician growls, fury twisting his face. “The other three will fetch a decent price. Obviously there’s something _wrong_ with you anyway, for the spell to cause _this._ You’re not worth my time.” He begins to swing the wand around to point at the quivering, curled up little body, and Red Robin _snaps._

_Oh_ hell _no._ His mind races. He needs to stop that asshole _right fucking now,_ and the only way to do that is to think of an alternate definition for his name, like Red Hood must have.

_Well, a common term for a male duck is-_ he cuts off that train of thought in horror. _What the_ fuck, _mind, how is that possibly going to be helpful?! No!_ Hell, _no, Jesus Christ why._

Another thought occurs to him, and if he could move, he would be grinning now, razor sharp and wild. _Drake is another word for dragon,_ he thinks viciously, and the world collapses into darkness.

*

Nightwing stares in dull horror as the magician advances on his little brother, lying so still on the ground. _Not again,_ he thinks helplessly, heart breaking at the thought of his brother dying _again_ , this time while he is _right there_ and unable to do anything but watch.

And Robin and Red Robin are here, too, and he can’t protect his other baby brothers either. Their fates may even be _worse_ than Red Hood’s, if what the magician has let slip so far is anything to go by.

It’s getting harder to see Red Hood, and Nightwing tries to recoil from the gathering magic but of course is frozen in place. For a moment, he can’t see anything but darkness, and then…

His field of vision is full of leathery wings and flame, scales and spikes and flurried movement. An _actual goddamn dragon_ erupts into motion, bracing _off his lap_ to _leap_ at the magician with a furious roar that dissolves into a rumbling growl as flames begin to erupt from its mouth.

The magician _shrieks,_ recoiling from where he was menacing the little fox and flinging his arms up defensively. _“Aaaargh Zeus’s raging BUTThole WHY, what the hell is_ wrong _with all of you! Immobiles! Immobiles!”_

His wand cuts through the air, a wave of light surrounding the dragon and freezing it, glistening teeth, sharp claws, and gout of flames an inch from the magician’s left eye. “Oh Merlin,” he wheezes, thumping a bony fist to his chest. “That was close.”

He inches a careful step back. “I don’t understand,” he eyes the dragon, and the little fox which has managed to get to its feet and taken up a protective stance in front of the frozen dragon. “It was supposed to be your civilian identities, not some kind of _animal transformation-”_

He pauses, gaping, then eyes each animal again. “Fox,” he says. “Dragon? No, that’s not a common name at all. Draco? …Maybe.” He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you’re using a loophole. Fine, whatever, I’ll still find a use for you. A fox can be bound as a familiar, and dragon parts are very valuable spell ingredients.”

The fox growls threateningly, crouching low as if to spring again. The magician cringes and flings his hands up protectively in front of his face, squeaking in terror. _“Immobiles!”_

Damn.

Well, there’s no way Nightwing’s letting his little brothers be enslaved or turned into spell ingredients. And this needs to be ended quickly, without either remaining brother reverting to their actual civilian identity.

Still, what the heck is he supposed to _do?_ It’s not like his last name has a convenient double meaning, to make the spell transform him into a cool animal form instead…

His mind grinds to a halt.

_I can’t,_ he thinks desperately, fighting nausea at the very notion.

He looks again at his little brothers, all three of them, bound and helpless before his eyes.

_I have to._ Grimly, he focuses his mind. _Grayson,_ he thinks. _The Gray Son._

The magic closes in like a vise.

*

Robin fights resolutely, forcing his thoughts to evaluate and monitor the situation while determinedly avoiding anything that might lead to a betrayal of his civilian identity.

Red Hood and Red Robin’s transformations give him momentary hope, but the two are not fast enough to overcome the magician. When the cloud of magic gathers a third time, around Nightwing now, he despairs of protecting their civilian identities and begins thinking of ways to dispose of the magician’s body.

_Red Hood will help me; he understands. The others will forgive us, in time. We cannot allow our identities to be compromised in this way. The very idea is insuperable!_

When the cloud of magic dissipates, he is in no way prepared for what is revealed.

Instead of Dick Grayson, Richie Wayne, or even Officer Grayson, what is standing there is… _well._

Standing slowly from his crouch, the _creature_ that has taken his brother’s place rises like something from a nightmare clad in black tactical gear and clawed gloves, bristling with weapons, a hood over his head with distinctive brass goggles and beak.

_Oh demons of the abyss, no. Not this. Never_ this, _not for_ him. Robin wants to vomit.

Meanwhile, the magician is beginning to tremble, and his left eye is twitching repetitively. “Okay, what the ever-loving _fuck._ How is this even fair? _That_ is even scarier than your vigilante form! _How the hell do you guys keep doing this._ Each of you is somehow more terrifying than the last!”

He rounds on Robin, pointing a shaking finger at him. “And what is _your_ name going to turn out to be, huh, _Cthulhu?!”_

Robin sees the Talon’s form looming behind the magician, who senses his presence and slowly, unwillingly turns to face him. The man lets out a muffled squeak when he finds the Court of Owls assassin _right there._

The Talon slowly removes his hood, revealing Nightwing’s face with the characteristic gray skin, black veins, and yellow eyes of a Talon. He grins malevolently, and the magician shrieks and loses control of his bladder. _“What the fuck even_ are _you, oh Merlin why, this was supposed to be the_ easy _part,”_ the magician howls in despair.

The Talon cocks his head, still smiling creepily, then starts to sing under his breath. _“Beware the court of owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the talon for your head.”_

The magician whimpers, and Robin is _done._

His brothers are stuck in the forms of a small quadrupedal mammal, a medium-sized cryptid, and a legendary undead _assassin._ This is intolerable and he is not going to just _stand_ here being useless another _moment._

_Al Ghoul,_ he thinks, a fiendish satisfaction washing through him. _From the Arabic, translated to mean a monstrous creature which dwells in burial grounds and feasts upon the dead._

As the magic gathers around him, he hears the magician _whine_ and his lips stretch in a smile. And stretch. And _stretch._

When the cloud of magic dissipates, Damian is hunched over, huge clawed hands scraping deep ruts into the ground. He straightens, still grinning, feeling great knots of muscle bunching in his broad shoulders and back as he looks down from a far greater height than usual. He feels his long sharp teeth clicking together as he practically unhinges his jaw, and _laughs._

Even the Talon looks mildly disturbed. The magician takes one look at Damian and _sobs,_ eyes rolling back in his head as he crumples to the ground in a faint.

The Talon nudges the collapsed magician with a toe, then confiscates and pockets the wand. The dragon stretches, apparently released from the binding spell once the caster lost focus, and the fox trots over to sit neatly on his haunches next to the Talon.

“Well, that was some fucked up shit,” says the fox in Todd’s deep bass. “Wanna go for pizza?”

The dragon slinks over, shrugging gracefully before folding its wings and settling primly beside the fox. “I could eat.”

The Talon rolls his yellow eyes and folds his arms across his chest. “We have no idea if pizza is good for either of you in those forms! Besides, we need to see about getting this spell reversed-”

“Relax, Dickface, fuckin’ _live_ a little. We’ll deal with all that bullshit, but we might as well have some good eats at the same time.”

“We’ll let you top yours with cereal if you want,” the dragon adds cajolingly.

“Really?” The Talon brightens, turning to Robin. “You hungry, Dami? We can get you a vegetarian.”

Damian huffs, easily picking up the limp magician with his newfound strength while exercising only marginal care to avoid impaling the fool with his knife-like claws. “Very well, Grayson. But I insist we work on reverting to our natural forms as soon as possible. I have burst out of my clothing and it is doubtful anything in the Manor will fit me in my current state.”

He valiantly resists clawing off the others’ faces as they snicker at him. Drake crouches low to allow Todd to scamper onto his back, then launches himself into the air despite Grayson’s protests. “Meet you guys back at the Manor!” Drake calls gleefully as the pair disappear into the dark sky.

Damian and Grayson look at each other, cataloguing one another’s current grotesque appearance and both likely envisioning the furor that would ensue should they attempt to walk into a pizza parlor in their current state. Even hardened Gothamites would most likely react to _this_.

“We’ll order delivery,” Grayson finally says, smiling ruefully and exposing sharp gleaming teeth.

“I shall call one of the cars to come retrieve us.” Damian hopes Father doesn’t send Alfred. The fewer people who see him like _this,_ the better. He thinks of something else, and his brow furrows. “Grayson…”

“Yeah, Dami?”

“How is Todd _holding on?”_

*

Tim soars through the sky, laughing out loud at the rush of the night air around him, Gotham spread beneath his wings. He whoops and glides, joy filling him to the brim, barely noticing the little pinches on his shoulders as Jason scrabbles to cling to his back.

“Hey, Baby Bird…” Jason’s voice sounds a little tense.

“Yeah, Jay?”

“Wanna maybe slow the fuck down a little?”

Tim _giggles,_ and Jason’s claws tighten minutely as the fox swears in multiple languages.

This is _glorious._ He’s _definitely_ taking the long way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a cracky little bit of fluff that came to me while I was writing Where's My Goddamn Dinosaur, and I had some fun with it. I have seven chapters outlined and wanted to share the first chapter even though I won't be able to update for a while as my work slowdown is apparently over and it'll be a bit before I have time for fun writing again. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce stands quietly near the Batcomputer, utterly entranced by the sight before him. All of his sons are in the Cave, and for once none of them are fighting, yelling at him, yelling at each other, waving guns around threateningly, waving katanas around threateningly, or riding away angrily on their motorcycles while flipping him off and shouting profanity about his sexual proclivities.

 _My boys._ He swallows hard against the unexpected emotional response to having his children here together in a non-violent capacity.

This certainly wasn’t what he expected when they trailed into the Cave earlier, first Tim and Jason in a rush of wind and wings that made him think the Cave was under attack, and then Dick and Damian who arrived over an hour later, riding a borrowed children’s bicycle of all things because their phones had disappeared when the magician caught them with his unusual but ultimately ineffectual spell.

It had been an astonishing sight, Dick in all his _Talon gear_ pedaling the pink bicycle and Damian’s bulk hunched over him clinging to the handlebars with his finger and toe-claws, clutching the unconscious, spindly magician under one enormous arm like a floppy, urine-soaked football. Bruce feels a strange mixture of resentment and gratitude toward that magician, for giving him this chance to spend some time with all his boys through what was meant to be an attack. Perhaps he’ll let the man out of the interrogation cell later and hand him over to Zatanna for appropriate training in magic and morals, giving him a chance to turn his life around.

Eventually. _Maybe._ The renegade magician did try to hurt Bruce’s kids, after all. He considers, and makes a mental note to start playing some of Dick’s favorite songs on loop in the cell. The man tried to bring harm to Bruce’s _children;_ he _deserves to suffer._

He tilts his head to the side, a small smile creeping onto his face as he enjoys just watching his boys play together.

Jason is perched on a rock outcropping to one side, body tense and attention wholly absorbed by Tim who is about to pass by underneath the ledge. Jason gathers himself, then _pounces_ on his prey, yipping with delight as Tim twitches in shock and takes a tumble.

Tim arches and twists dramatically as they fall, wrapping himself protectively around Jason so he isn’t hurt. The dragon ends up sprawled on his back with the small fox cradled on his belly. Tim nuzzles Jason, chuffing remonstratively as Jason pants his laughter, and then the two relax, apparently settling in right there for a spontaneous nap.

Bruce only has to turn his head slightly to see Dick and Damian sparring playfully on the mats. If he squints and only looks at them out of the corner of his eye, their physical modifications aren’t even that noticeable.

Dick giggles as he flips through the air, then picks Damian up and _flings_ him across the Cave into the wall, where Damian’s claws drive forcefully into the stone with a horrific screech. The boy roars and leaps, knotted muscles bunching as he rebounds off the wall to tackle his brother, distorted limbs extended with claws out and mouth opened in a hiss to reveal glistening fangs before he releases an eldritch shriek of menace and horror.

Bruce sighs fondly.

Alfred, also watching, clears his throat at Bruce’s elbow. “Sir, are you absolutely _positive_ this is the… _wisest…_ course of action?” Alfred’s expression is absolutely stoic as always, but Bruce can tell the older man is deeply concerned. Possibly worried enough to _interfere_ with Bruce’s plan. Well, that just won’t do.

Fortunately, Bruce knows how to get to Alfred. _Tell him the truth, and let him see how much it matters to me._ “You don’t understand. This is the first time all the boys have been in the Manor together, ever, except in response to an emergency. I have never had all my sons living under one roof as a family, and I just want to enjoy it for a while.” Bruce swallows, not afraid to beg. “Alfred, _please. Let me have this.”_

Alfred sighs, and Bruce smiles. _I’ve won._

The butler shakes his head slowly. “You’ve always been a stubborn lad, sir. I still feel it incumbent upon me to inform you I believe you are making a mistake.”

“I’m not convinced, Alfred. I’m _sure_ I won’t regret it.”

Alfred raises a brow wryly. “Very well, Master Bruce, do as you wish.” He shakes his head again, clearly washing his hands of the entire matter. “You always did have to learn your lessons the hard way.”

A gout of fire erupts through the Cave, singeing Dick who immediately trots over to check on Tim, body visibly healing as he moves. “Aw, Timmy sneezed in his sleep!” Dick croons, leaning over his little brothers with an expression of adoration on his inhuman face, absolutely unconcerned about the burns which just disappeared from his body.

Damian knuckles over to join his brothers, scowling ferociously, slavers of drool involuntarily dripping from his fangs. “Drake is a buffoon, no matter his form. He is fortunate you currently have the accelerated healing capacity of a Talon.” He glares at the dragon, who sniffles in his sleep and sneezes again, causing Damian to curse Tim’s mother in Arabic and leap backwards over twenty feet across the Cave to avoid the flames.

The tattered loincloth they improvised using bedsheets slips off as Damian lands and the ghoul squawks hoarsely and blushes dark grayish green, quickly covering his shame with his enormous hands while taking care not to skewer anything delicate with those vicious claws.

Bruce makes a mental note to find his youngest something better to wear. After all, the boys are going to be stuck like this for a while.

He smiles with pleasure at the satisfying thought, then heads upstairs as Dick tries unsuccessfully to cover Damian’s gigantic, malformed nudity with a cape. Both boys are getting frustrated as their claws keep shredding the material.

Jason apparently awakened during the commotion and is supplying a ready stream of insults and suggestions, while Tim snickers and seems to be unsuccessfully attempting to figure out how to use the coffee maker in his new form.

Bruce chuckles at their antics. _Oh, boys._

It wouldn’t do for any of the boys to overhear him talking to Zatanna about this. He’ll have to pull all his favors within the magic-user community, but he’s confident he can arrange for everyone to be _unavailable_ to reverse this spell for the next few weeks. Zatanna might not agree if he just _requested_ she not respond to any inquiries _,_ but if he implies this is a training exercise, one the boys agreed to participate in…

_After all, this isn’t too much to ask, is it? Just a few weeks to enjoy my boys here at home…_

*

Dick swings and flips from the aerial equipment in the Cave, still getting a feel for his new abilities. This form is even more flexible than his actual body, and it’s far stronger in addition to the convenient healing factor.

 _If I weren’t a horrifying undead monster redolent of terrifying inhumanity and nightmares, I’d totally wanna keep this form just for the healing alone. It is_ nice _not to have to worry about injuries all the damn time. Wish I could go out on patrol like this, just once._

So far, he seems to have it the best out of all of them. Tim and Jason aren’t even bipedal, and poor Damian is off getting fitted for custom Alfred-made clothing because he’s too huge and misshapen for anything else. At least Dick could throw on some makeup and contacts and carry on with his usual life if he had to.

Dick drops with a flourish, landing near Tim and Jason where they’re still lounging lazily on the floor of the Cave.

“The quadruple somersault. Nice.” Tim’s voice is soft and dreamy, his entire body curled neatly in a circle with Jason tucked into the center.

Jason twitches and stirs faintly, clearly already half-asleep. “Wha-?”

Tim’s body tightens carefully around Jason, forelegs pressing him closer into the dragon’s chest as Tim nuzzles him gently with his muzzle. “Nothing, Jay. Go back to sleep.” His voice is almost unbearably fond and gentle, as it often is when talking to or about Jason.

 _Man, they are such a disgustingly cute couple._ Dick watches them affectionately for a moment, then starts to get uncomfortable as the nuzzling continues a little too long, accompanied by soft little purrs and hums of satisfaction. He’s starting to get that awkward third wheel vibe, which is made extra uncomfortable by the implied bestiality.

 _Although is it really bestiality if they’re actually human beneath the spell?_ He eyes them consideringly, then decides _yes. Yes it is, and they need to just… Not do that, until this is over and we’re transformed back._

“Uh, guys?” He tries. They usually aren’t _this_ demonstrative in front of others, and he really doesn’t want to have a front row seat to them figuring out how to get it on in these forms. In fact, he doesn’t want to think about that _at all_ and will purge this memory from his mind at the earliest opportunity.

“Hey, don’t you want to go somewhere private if you’re going to, well…” He feels his cheeks heat and finds himself wondering if Talons can even blush.

Tim opens his eyes fully and regards him blankly with a bewildered air. “Going to what?” Jason stretches against him, whimpering sleepily, and Tim leans down to gently lick the little fox’s cheek, using the tip of his tail to lovingly caress the fox’s side.

_Oh god, not cool. Yeah, nope. I’m done._

Dick starts to edge backwards. “Or I’ll just leave! Yeah, that’ll work. See you guys later! … _Much_ later. Enjoy, um, your _privacy,_ and be gentle with Jaybird! He’s a lot more delicate than usual! You crushing him with your ponderous bulk would not be fun times, not that I’m _judging,_ if that happens to be your thing _,_ just… okay, bye!” He flees the Cave, blushing furiously.

*

Jason and Tim both tilt their heads in confusion as they watch Dick running away for no apparent reason while babbling nonsensically, and when nothing else happens for a minute they shrug and resume cuddling.

Fuck, Jason’s tired and Tim’s way comfier than you’d expect a dragon to be. Seriously. His scales are soft and he’s warm as fuck.

So. Damn. _Relaxing._

“The fuck d’you think he meant by that?” Not that Jason really cares what craziness Dickiebird’s up to. Just seemed weird is all.

“No idea. He’s probably just tired. It’s been a long day for all of us.” Tim yawns, nestles his head down against Jason, and gently drapes a wing over them both like a soft, light blanket.

Hopefully by the time they wake up Zatanna will be here to fix this shit show, and he and Tim can go home. Their bed is _way_ more comfortable than the fuckin’ Cave floor.

 _But seriously, the fuck was Dickie talkin’ about? Why the hell would me and Timmers need privacy, anyway? Whatever, sleep now, figure out Dickhead’s shit later._ Jason sighs in comfort and happiness and settles, ready for more sleep.

*

Bruce starts down the stairs to the Cave to check on the boys, and freezes in shock at the sight that greets him.

All four boys are asleep, curled together in a cozy puppy pile along with various blankets and pillows they must have scavenged from around the Manor. A warm feeling wells up in Bruce’s chest as he recognizes the comforter from his bed wrapped around Damian, who is resting against Tim’s shoulder, one clawed foot twitching in his dreams as he embraces the dragon with both massive arms. Tim is lying on an enormous pile of pillows and is coiled tightly around Jason, muzzle tucked against the little fox’s side, with Dick lying sprawled across everyone in a position that would be impossible for anyone less flexible than the acrobat. He’s completely relaxed and obviously quite comfortable, smiling faintly in his sleep.

He’s never seen his sons like this before, and his certainty he is doing the right thing by temporarily delaying the spell reversal crystallizes. He tiptoes silently back up the stairs to avoid disturbing them, but not before taking a picture.

 _This will be good for all of us,_ he thinks, an unfamiliar sensation of warmth still permeating his being. _Alfred’s wrong. There’s no way I will ever come to regret this._

Bruce smiles in satisfaction as he plans how many poster-sized copies of the picture he will need to print in order to hang on the wall in his bedroom, his office at the Manor, the Cave, his office at Wayne Enterprises, perhaps one for the library as well… _Ah, and of course Alfred will want at least one. They’ll make good Christmas cards, too…_


	3. Chapter 3

“Master Bruce, I must insist once again you reconsider this unfortunate plan of yours.” Alfred’s remonstrative tones reach outside the kitchen to the hall where Dick is walking and he pauses in his steps, not wanting to interrupt.

“I already told you, Alfred, my mind is made up.” Bruce sounds absolutely determined. Dick doubts Alfred’s going to be able to sway B’s opinion about whatever subject’s under discussion.

“I believe the boys are being increasingly affected by the spell as time goes on. Master Jason, in particular, is having… episodes, indicative of feral behavior more vulpine than human.”

“I’m not convinced, Alfred.”

 _Man,_ _Bruce is such an obdurate ass. Who else would argue with_ Alfred?

“Sir, Master Jason has repeatedly gnawed on your boots and clawed at the Batmobile, damaging the exterior. Are you seriously suggesting he would do so while in his normal state of mind?”

“Well…” Bruce hesitates. “It _does_ sound like Jason, doesn’t it? He’s always been a rambunctious boy.”

“He _bit_ you this morning, Master Bruce.”

“That doesn’t constitute concrete evidence of his descent into a more primitive and animalistic state of mind! He used to bite people all the time!”

“He was _twelve,_ sir, and they were usually _criminals_.”

“Jason’s always been a handful. I refuse to believe this is anything more than boyish high spirits. The boys are fine, Alfred. Besides, I already told Zatanna about the training exercise and have her word. No magic users are going to respond to any requests to reverse this spell for the next three weeks during the training exercise, and that’s final.”

The sound of rustling paper and Alfred’s put-upon sigh rouse Dick from his stunned reverie and he hurries to reverse his steps back to the Cave so he can tell the others what he just heard.

*

“You must be mistaken!” Were it not _Grayson_ speaking, Damian would be inclined to suspect the other of lying to them. “ _Why_ would Father refuse to allow us to be transformed back to our natural forms for any longer than necessary? It makes no sense! We are currently unable to patrol, and useless should he require our assistance in the field!”

Grayson sighs, digging his fingers into his hair and tugging at it lightly in distress. “He mentioned something about leaving us like this for three weeks for a _training_ exercise.”

“Wait, what the _fuck._ That fuckin’ _asshole_ is keepin’ us trapped in these goddamn forms longer than we hafta be, just ‘cause he wants to fuckin’ _test_ us or some shit? Goddamn _bastard,_ I’m gonna fuckin’ piss in his motherfuckin’ _cowl_ for this shit-”

Todd’s fur puffs up as he trots back and forth in a rage, and Damian experiences difficulty suppressing the desire to scoop up the little animal and cuddle him calm. Curse Todd for assuming such a deceptively small and fluffy form. Grayson, the fool, attempts to pet Todd and is nipped for his troubles. He absently wipes the blood off on his trousers, revealing already-healed skin on his hand.

“If he’s playing this like a training exercise, what’s he trying to test?” Drake’s narrow tail twitches back and forth restlessly, his bright green scales shimmering iridescently as he moves. Damian momentarily wishes his hands were still small and deft enough to sketch. “Does he want to observe how we handle ourselves in adverse conditions? Is he watching our teamwork? …Or is he challenging us to get ourselves changed back on our own somehow before the three weeks are up?”

Grayson tilts his head, lips beginning to twitch. “You know, I don’t think it really matters.”

Drake regards him with suspicion. “Oh? And why is that, Dick?”

“Because between what you and Jason said right now, I just got the _best_ idea.” Grayson smiles slowly, glee and mischief kindling in his yellow eyes.

Damian frowns consideringly. Grayson’s best ideas are just as likely to end in ignominious defeat as they are glorious victory. Adding in Todd and Drake will no doubt make for an explosive combination.

He taps his fingers indecisively, and his gaze catches on the gnarled, twisted appendages with their gruesome, thick and yellowed claws. His hands are hideous. _He_ is hideous, a mostly hairless eight-foot tall fiend with grayish green skin, disproportionate limbs and long, razor-sharp teeth.

It is Father’s fault Damian still looks this way, _will_ look like this for another three weeks if they fail to take action now. He narrows his eyes, course decided. “Tell us this plan, Grayson.”

*

Tim giggles as Jason whispers another idea for how he’s going to start enacting his phase of the plan. “Oh my _god,_ Jason you’re _evil._ You’re a horrible, horrible person and it’s wonderful and frightening at the same time.” He dissolves into helpless laughter again, unable to stop imagining Bruce’s _face_ when Jay unleashes hell on him.

Jason chuckles warmly. “We’ll get that fucker, Baby Bird, don’t you worry about that. You’ll be able to fit through doors without knockin’ your wings on ‘em and use a coffee maker and have opposable thumbs again and everything.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Tim looks forlornly at the coffee maker in the corner of the Cave. The one he tried to use earlier only to discover to his horror that his claws lack the dexterity required to manipulate the tiny buttons. Jason tried to help, but his paws weren’t much better.

Dick had just laughed and said it was good for Tim to get a break from coffee, and Tim knows better than to even try asking Damian for help.

Jason eyes Tim with concern, then stands on his hind legs to press his paws gently on Tim’s shoulders in an approximation of a hug. “Fuck, I wish I was myself again. Can’t fuckin’ _hold_ you like this, Baby…” He presses his face against Tim and Tim bends his head down to nuzzle against the fox’s back.

“This is nice anyway,” he whispers, closing his eyes and breathing in Jason’s clean woodsy scent. He inhales deeply, then straightens. “Okay, guess I’m up for distraction duty. I’ll go fly a few circles over the Manor so Bruce comes up to yell at me for drawing attention. I’ll keep him busy until it’s time for him to go on patrol. The others will keep watch and warn you if he comes back early for some reason. Meanwhile, you know what to do here.”

Jason lets his mouth fall open with his tongue hanging out in a foxy grin. “Yeah, I’m on it. Gonna have a hell of a time fuckin’ that bastard’s shit up.” He turns resolutely to his very enjoyable task as Tim heads for one of the larger Cave exits to do his thing.

*

Jason collapses on the library floor, panting in satisfied, thirsty exhaustion. “Oh fuck me I’m tired, but that was so fuckin’ _worth it.”_ He chortles to himself just _thinking_ about the look on B’s smug face when he goes down to the Cave in a few minutes. _Teach that asshole to try to control us like this just for some fuckin’_ training _shit he didn’t even run by us. Not that I’d ever agree to that bullshit. High-handed_ bastard, _what the fuck right does he have. Who the hell does he think he is?_

“Oh, you’re back!” Dick materializes out of the shadows in that way of his that’s really fuckin’ creepy now that he’s a Talon. “Get it all done?”

“Yep, plus a few extras I thought of on the spur of the moment.” Jason laughs again, and Dick joins in.

“Man, I’d almost feel bad for Bruce, but he really brought all this on himself.”

“Fucker deserves it,” Jason agrees, sprawling bonelessly on the ground and allowing Dickie to scratch gently behind his ears. “Hey, you seen Timmy?” Dick tenses slightly, and Jason reacts. “What, did somethin’ happen to him?” He growls softly, imagining what he’d do to anyone who hurt Tim.

Dick shakes his head. “No! No, he’s fine. It’s just…”

“Well c’mon, Dickie, spit it out. What the fuck, you’re worrying me.” He sits up a little, actually a bit anxious now.

“I’m just… _concerned…_ about you two, okay?” Dick looks like he’d rather be anywhere other than here.

Jason is genuinely perplexed. “The fuck? Why? I mean, yeah, animal transformation sucks, but we’re all fuckin’ professionals here, Dickhead. Tim and me ain’t gonna fall apart just ‘cause we’re walkin’ on four legs for a while.”

“That’s not what I meant! I mean, it _is_ related to your new forms, but…”

“Fuckin’ shit or get off the pot, Dickface.” Jason watches in fascination as Dick blushes a dark gray, more veins than usual showing eerily black through his skin. _So fuckin’ weird._

“I just wanted to make sure you guys are being careful, okay!” Dick practically shouts as he blushes even harder.

“Careful about what?”

“You know!”

 _What the fuck…?_ “Uh, nope?”

Dick huffs, gesticulating wildly. “You should be careful being intimate together considering the size difference between you and Tim, not to mention the claws and fangs and fire!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Geez, this is awkward. Um, I know you guys are probably _used_ to working around a size difference, but this is more extreme than normal, plus it’s usually the other way around with _you_ being the bigger one, and Tim could injure you badly and-”

Jason’s brain stopped working somewhere around the word _intimate._ Is Dick…? Does he really think Jason and _Tim_ are…? _What._

“Wait, back the fuck up. You think me and _Timmy_ are _havin’ sex?”_

Dick blinks at Jason in apparent confusion. “Yes…?” He says uncertainly. “I mean, do you guys not like to call it that…? Okay, fine, be careful when you _make love_ with Tim.” And the idiot smiles at Jason encouragingly, like he didn’t just babble a shitload of insanity at him.

“We’re not a couple, Dickface!” Jason manages to sputter eventually.

“Well, friends with benefits, partners, whatever you call it, you should make sure to be careful. He could really hurt you right now by accident-”

“Jesus Christ Dickie _we’re not fucking!”_ Jason should not have to tell his brother this. Why is this even a thing? _Jason is so confused._

“You’re not?” Dick sounds stunned and a little disbelieving.

“Hell no!” How could he possibly have even gotten this idea?

“…But you shower together?” Oh, that. Wait…

_“You’re spying on us in our apartment?”_

“No! I meant in the _safe houses!_ The ones we _all_ stay in sometimes! You guys literally walk into the bathroom together and when you come out you’re both wet and flushed and very _relaxed-looking_ , so forgive me if I made some _assumptions-_ ”

 _Oh yeah, we_ do _shower together at the safe houses sometimes too…_

“It’s just nice to have someone wash my back, _asshole!_ Tim has magic fingers!”

*

Bruce moves down the steps to the Cave warily. Something isn’t right. The skin on the back of his neck tightens with the strange sensation of someone watching him, but that’s impossible. The boys are all upstairs having a late dinner, even Tim for whom Alfred set up a trough in a cleared space in the dining room.

Anyway, he doesn’t have _time_ for this. He’s already been delayed far too long by Tim’s playful antics and although he can understand the boy’s excitement at being able to fly, he hopes there won’t be a repeat of tonight. The last thing they need is reporters camping in the woods near Wayne Manor trying to catch footage of a _dragon_.

He shakes off the feeling and is moving resolutely toward the suit when he’s hit by the _smell._ He slams a hand over his mouth and nose, coughing.

 _Oh god it’s_ noxious. _What…?_

As he staggers backwards, eyes flying around the Cave to take in the extent of the damage, he fights back the urge to acknowledge Alfred may quite possibly have had a valid point earlier.

 _It’s just Jason,_ he thinks desperately as he tries not to gag at the appalling _stench_ of all the scent-marking the little fox clearly spent _hours_ performing on almost every surface in the Cave. He can see the glistening of what is most likely urine on the Batmobile, the door of which is hanging open, leading him to believe the desecration extends to the interior.

He manages to get a rebreather on before gingerly lifting the cape of the Batsuit. There’s… he closes his eyes, then opens them again to confirm what he just saw.

_Good god._

Jason defecated on the Batsuit. Bruce opens the neck to check, and… _Oh for the love of-_ Yes. Jason also defecated _in_ the Batsuit. He grunts and checks the backup suits, unsurprised somehow to see each has been copiously marked with urine, scat, or what may be secretions from Jason’s anal scent gland. He’d have to perform an analysis to confirm, of course… mechanically he collects a sample and starts running the analysis before he begins to pull on the least affected-looking suit, one of the older designs he ultimately rejected and has never actually worn in the field before.

He notes distastefully that it’s the version of the suit with the superfluous nipples etched into the armored chest. He fervently wishes he had time to clean one of the other suits, but he’s already late so it’ll have to be this one. The others are unwearable in their current condition.

 _Of course Jason didn’t pee on the one with the nipples,_ he thinks resentfully, dismissing his earlier concern about Jason’s state of mind. _I’m still not convinced, Alfred. If Jason were truly going feral, he would have marked all of the suits equally. The fact he left me_ this specific one _to wear only confirms he’s still very much himself._

He lifts the cowl and plops it down on his head, regretting that decision deeply an instant later as cold urine courses through his hair and down his face and neck.

Bruce shudders in disgust, then makes his way over to the Batmobile. He uses his boot to nudge the little pile of scat off the seat, and then peels out of the Cave with a roar of the engine.

 _It’s still worth it,_ he thinks to himself, with more than a hint of desperation. _Worth any price, to have all my boys home._

He clings to that thought while grimly pushing himself through a hellish patrol during which criminals and victims alike mock and laugh at him instead of cringing in fear, and while dragging bucket after bucket of soapy water through the Cave to clumsily clean up the mess as best he can because he knows Alfred’s patented _I told you so_ expression will be unlivable if he asks the man for help, and while discovering to his consternation that he’s now _trending on Twitter._

Bruce stares at the Batcomputer in cringing horror as internet commentators post photograph after photograph of tonight’s patrol, with extreme close-ups of those horribly ill-advised nipples, and debate whether Batman has always been a sexual deviant or if this is a recent development.

He numbly blocks the feed after others begin posting photographs from Dick’s Robin days as evidence supporting the ‘always a deviant’ argument, and his few defenders crumble when confronted with images of a tiny child ‘ _capering around doing high kicks in tiny panties at the dubious mercy of a big, dominating man in tight black leather’,_ in the extremely discomfiting words of ‘ _ButtChocolate47_ ’. Even _‘PavlovsDong’_ and _‘8=====D’,_ previously among Batman’s staunchest defenders, fall silent. At least they don’t immediately turn on him, like ‘ _Jizzercise69’_ and _‘KissmyASCII’,_ the traitors _._

 _Dickie chose that costume himself,_ Bruce finds himself thinking, feeling oddly hurt _._ _He loved that ridiculous thing so much I couldn’t bear to insist he change it to something more defensive. It made him so happy because it reminded him of the circus._ He smiles softly at the memory of the little boy’s face lighting up the first time he saw his new costume.

 _Still worth it,_ Bruce thinks again as he collapses into bed in exhaustion, indulging himself just this once by wearing his most comfortable Superman pajamas that he can’t let anyone know he owns on pain of deepest humiliation and never being able to show his face in front of the Justice League ever again.

Bruce clutches a small framed print of the boys sleeping together from the other night to his chest, releases a shuddering sigh of sheer exhaustion, and goes the fuck to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

“He made you a den.” Dick stares disbelievingly at the imported soil, plants, carefully placed lamps with ultraviolet lighting, and cozy burrow which have now been set up in the Cave.

Jason chuckles, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Yeah, apparently he decided all the scent-marking was cause I was nervous or somethin' about havin' to spend so much time in the fucking Cave again after all these years.” His ears perk up. “I checked it out; it’s actually really comfortable inside. There’s dried berries and shit down there.” He licks his muzzle happily.

“It sucks as an indicator for how the plan is working, but it's oddly considerate, for Bruce. It’s downright _thoughtful_ of him to try to make you feel safer here, or it would be if he _weren’t the reason we’re all trapped here in the first place._ ” Tim noses disparagingly at one of the plants and snorts angrily, then sneezes.

Damian uses his toe-claws to rapidly kick some soil over the scorched plants and smother the resulting minor fire with a scoff and a long-suffering, “Control yourself, Drake!”

Dick eyes his brothers consideringly, then shrugs. “Right. Okay then, that’s fine. We didn’t really expect Bruce to fold right away; he’s too stubborn for that. This is exactly why the plan has four stages.” He smiles slowly. “We need to up the ante.”

Tim raises his head at that, eyes glittering dangerously. “My turn?” His vertical pupils widen in excitement and the tip of his tail begins to twitch back and forth.

Poor Bruce has no idea what he’s in for. Still, the man can't be allowed to get away with treating them like this just for some stupid test or training exercise or whatever. Dick grins. “Yeah, you're up, Timmy!”

*

“What is this, Alfred?” Bruce may be exhausted and somewhat compromised by the events of the last twenty-four hours, but he’s still fairly confident whatever he just put in his mouth was _wrong._ He’s so tired, and he just found a closet full of now-unwearable clothing laden with “presents” Jason apparently left for him. He can only hope his efforts to help the boy adjust will bear fruit, and the little fox will stop mutilating and marking everything Bruce owns.

“Tea, sir.”

“Where’s the coffee?” Bruce is so tired and confused, and he needs coffee to enable his brain to think well enough to solve this mystery, but the missing coffee _is_ the mystery, and…

“Unfortunately, every coffee pot in the house seems to have vanished… along with all of the coffee.”

“What? How… Let me just… wait, where’s my tablet? Where… even the cameras are gone. Alfred!” Bruce spins in place, noting in shock that every electronic device appears to be missing. Even the _refrigerator_ is absent. “How could this happen?”

Alfred calmly uses a manual can opener to peel open a can of extremely unappetizing-looking breakfast sausages, which he extracts and begins heating over the gas stove that Bruce notes is now missing its clock. “Ah, I’m sure I couldn’t say, sir. However, if you should happen to glance down in the Cave later, I suspect you might find a clue to the mystery.” He heats a griddle and expertly toasts two slices of bread, topping them with sausages which now look and smell quite appealing.

Bruce wants to start toward the Cave immediately, but somehow finds himself sitting down and consuming a hearty breakfast first. Not for the first time, he seriously considers the possibility Alfred is a wizard.

*

“Tim’s _hoarding,_ ” Bruce whispers in disbelief, staring at the towering construction which fills a good portion of the Batcave. It appears to center over the Batcomputer, which has been incorporated into the monstrous concatenation of electronic devices that is Tim’s nest.

He realizes with rising indignation the Batmobiles, Batplane, and all of his other vehicles are integral to the structural integrity of the mass, with what looks like every other electronic device in the Manor and Cave kludged together into an abomination of technology. He isn’t sure whether he finds it more disturbing or impressive that all of the devices appear to be _working,_ flickering lights and soft beeping sounds filling the silence.

Worryingly, other items are visible in the structure which definitely did _not_ come from anywhere in the Manor, such as a scale model of the starship Enterprise with working lights embedded halfway up the front of the structure, several 3D printers which appear to be printing endless quantities of embarrassing Batman memorabilia, multiple mass spectrometers and electron microscopes with what look suspiciously like Gotham University and GCPD logos on them, and _dozens_ of professional-grade coffee and espresso machines.

The strong, rich, bitter scent of coffee fills the Cave and Bruce realizes many of the gaps in the structure are filled with what appears to be hundreds of bags of coffee. Coffee beans spill across the Cave floor from the entrance, and he wonders if Tim is lying in there curled happily on a small mountain of coffee beans.

 _Honestly, in retrospect this isn’t much of a surprise._ Bruce eyes the numerous coffee machines, and wealth of coffee. _Surely Tim won’t mind if I just make myself a cup…_

Tim’s eyes glow from within the structure and he hisses warningly when Bruce tries to extract a coffee machine. Bruce raises his hands nonthreateningly and backs away slowly. His eyebrows climb as… _something…_ slowly drags a flat screen television across the entrance to Tim’s nest, blocking it. Moments later, the sounds of some kind of video game fill the Cave.

Bruce manages to scrape together a handful of coffee beans from the ground and gnaws on them angrily, eying all the off-limits coffee makers jealously.

Jason emerges from his new burrow nearby and trots over to greet Bruce, but before he manages more than a “Hey, B, how’s it-” a narrow tail whips out of Tim’s nest, wraps around Jason’s middle, and yanks him into the structure with a muffled yelp.

As Bruce stares in shock, a hand emerges from a crack between an Aston Martin and the wing of the Batplane. He quickly moves forward, grasping the hand and pulling what turns out to be Dick halfway out of the structure. “Bruce!” Dick gasps, clutching at him. “The _hoard-”_

A clawed forearm wraps around Dick’s shoulder and he’s wrenched from Bruce’s grasp, disappearing into the depths of the nest. A reptilian eye appears suddenly in the gap, causing Bruce to jerk backwards, startled. Tim hisses, then slowly recedes into the darkness, staring challengingly at Bruce the entire time.

“Father!” Damian’s imperious voice reaches him from the depths of the nest. “Please send Pennyworth to restock the refrigerators! Drake and Grayson have consumed all of the hummus, and Drake refuses to allow me to leave to retrieve more!”

Bruce blinks, then decides to deal with one thing at a time. _Feed them first, then free them from their brother’s hoard._ “Of course, Damian,” he calls, leaving to find Alfred and returning with enough food to supply a small army after Alfred orders an express delivery to the Manor. _I won’t have my boys going hungry._

“Now, now, Master Timothy, I know you were raised with better manners than this.” At Alfred’s chiding voice, Bruce looks up quickly, then hurries to the butler’s side to assist if needed.

He sees Tim’s tail apologetically unwrapping from the man’s wrist where he was apparently attempting to tug the man into the nest. The tail slides sinuously across the ground and begins to slowly encircle Bruce’s ankle.

With a manly shriek, Bruce leaps backwards, dragging Alfred with him and not stopping until he slams the clock shut behind them. The boys can load the food into the nest themselves if Tim won’t behave himself.

He leans against the clock, panting slightly. Alfred looks at him with one sardonic eyebrow raised speakingly.

Bruce stares at him. “No.” He shakes his head jerkily. “No, this isn’t… Stop looking at me like that! I’m not convinced, Alfred, this still isn’t definitive evidence the boys are losing their humanity. Tim’s just not used to enforced inactivity, that’s all. He built a… a fort! Boys build forts with their brothers all the time, Alfred! This is just boyish high spirits. They’re bonding! We couldn’t possibly interfere and take this away from them, no…” He trails off, pacing back and forth, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair as he attempts to convince both the butler and himself.

Alfred frowns, obviously deeply disappointed in Bruce’s judgement, thought processes, and general life choices up to this point. “As you say, sir,” he says, managing to convey how very little he agrees with Bruce’s actions at this moment. “I suppose I should invest in some old-fashioned ice boxes, as I suspect Master Tim will not bother with anything so low-tech. I hope you are happy with such meals as I can prepare under these circumstances.” His tone implies Bruce had _better_ be happy with whatever Alfred puts in front of him, because Alfred blames him for this entire mess anyway.

“Of course, Alfred.”

Bruce sighs and slumps against the clock, pulling out his cell phone to conduct some research on dragon hoarding because the Batcomputer is obviously off limits right now and he strongly suspects every other computer in the Manor is also already a part of Tim’s nest. As he unlocks the device, he’s startled by a sharp pain in his ankle and kicks out, freezing when he hears a familiar yelp. “Jason?!”

He stoops down to check on the little fox, horrified that he may have accidentally harmed his second son. The tiny creature is lying so still… _Oh no!_

Bruce sets his phone down, kneeling and reaching to tenderly palpate Jason’s ribs with both hands, and the little _shit_ twists and bites him _again_ , grabs Bruce’s phone in his teeth and _winks_ mockingly at him, then darts away through the clock and back to Tim’s nest laughing and carrying his prize.

Bruce just stays there on his knees, fully aware and accepting of the fact he will never see that phone again. He wonders idly how he is going to be able to perform his duties as Batman without any electronic support from the Cave.

 _It’s worth it,_ he thinks, dazed.

He smiles, a slightly crazed feeling coursing through him. _This is fine! I can live without electronic devices for a few weeks. It’ll be like camping! Camping with my boys. And if Tim manages to capture me and Alfred in his hoard, well, that’ll just be even_ more _togetherness. Just what I wanted! There’s no way this can go possibly wrong!_

He grins manically, rising to his feet. Tim likes computers and coffee and his brothers, as evidenced by the contents of his hoard. Bruce is glad to give his third son an opportunity to surround himself with the things that make him happy, and if he has to give up ready access to coffee to do so, then by god, he’ll go get his coffee himself.

Of course, Tim incorporated all of Bruce’s vehicles into his nest. And without a phone, he can’t even call a cab to drive him to the nearest coffee shop. The only form of conveyance Bruce can find that isn’t a part of Tim’s hoard is the pink child’s bicycle Dick and Damian arrived on that first night after they transformed. He stares at it for a long moment, weighing his need for caffeine against what remains of his tattered dignity.

 _Worth it,_ he thinks, sipping his excellent coffee and ignoring the shocked and amused stares as he pedals laboriously back to the Manor. _Completely worth it._

*

Father departed hours ago, and Grayson has just confirmed Father does not appear to be ready to cede victory to them despite the depredations he has suffered during Drake’s phase of the plan.

Damian needs to speak with Todd and Drake regarding the next phase, but is hesitant to enter the nest where the others have been shut in together for over an hour now.

He blushes, scowling at the thought of what the pair may have gotten up to in the interim. “You must _swear_ you are not engaging in any… unsavory activities! If I am forced to witness you fornicating together, I cannot answer for what I shall do to both of you!”

“What the fuck? Does _everyone_ think I’m screwin’ you, Baby Bird?” Todd’s deep voice floats out, sounding amused.

“How should I know! _No,_ Damian, just come in.” Drake sounds impatient and annoyed.

Damian eyes them suspiciously as he enters the nest. “If you _do_ decide to copulate, I do not wish to know any of the details, but…” he hesitates, then says with an air of great resignation and sacrifice, “you should inform me or Grayson beforehand. In your current forms, the likelihood of injury is far greater than usual and one of us should be on call in case Drake crushes you with his immense bulk, Todd.”

“Kinda weird, yeah Baby Bird? I mean, if we _were_ a thing, hypothetically speaking, usually _I_ would be the one crushing _you-_ ” Todd is laughing as Drake rears back, looking horrified.

“Shut up! _We’re not fucking,_ Damian, _get out!”_

Damian narrows his eyes at both, and then, reasonably satisfied the others are not about to burst into an orgy at any moment, settles down on a mound of coffee beans covered in a blanket and carefully lifts a game controller in his clawed hands. “No.”

He smiles wide, showing his teeth, and sits back on his makeshift beanbag chair. “Care for a game? I shall go easy on you in acknowledgement of the vast inferiority of your forms, which lack opposable thumbs. The lack of intelligence, of course, is intrinsic to _you_.”

“Hey, fucker, just because we don’t have thumbs doesn’t mean we can’t beat your ass-”

“Button mashing is not a measure of your _skill,_ Todd-”

“I didn’t mean in the fuckin’ _game,_ you little shit!”

Damian raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Todd, you are tiny and helpless. You are easily the _least_ intimidating of us currently.”

Todd growls, and Drake nuzzles at him soothingly. “Easy, Jay. It could’ve been worse, y’know. Have I told you I was almost a _duck?”_

Damian snorts in amusement at _that_ idea, eyes still on the screen. “Yes, Todd, at least you are a _predator._ Drake nearly failed even worse than _you;_ simply imagine him as a fluffy little duckling flapping his tiny wings menacingly at the magician. _”_

 _That would have been most amusing; I could have scorned and humiliated Drake forever had he transformed into such an unimpressive form._ Damian sighs over lost opportunities as Todd stares at him speculatively until he can’t bear it any longer. “ _What_ do you find so fascinating, Todd?”

“You know, brat, you don’t actually look that different from usual in this form. Your face is basically the same.”

Damian’s current face is grotesque, with protruding teeth and nightmarish visage. Damian scowls at the insult, and Todd and Drake burst into childish laughter.

“Hey guys, I’ve been working on my part, and I think B’s already starting to lose it! We’ll be human again in no time at this rate!” Grayson pops into the nest, grinning.

Todd stares at Grayson, eyes alight with mischief. “Hey Dickie, what if you’d turned into a gigantic actual dick when the magician did that spell?”

Grayson blinks slowly in surprise, then smiles ruefully. “Well, Jay, I guess I would’ve fought back against him. The only way I knew how.” He grins, showing his teeth.

“Well, _that_ would’ve been messy.” Drake snickers, then Todd starts laughing and Damian can’t help a snort of laughter. His brothers are _insane._

He suddenly notices Grayson’s talons and gear appear to be stained with something wet and red, and there are splashes of something wet and sticky on his face.

 _It’s probably nothing,_ he thinks as he turns back to his game and soundly tromps Todd, button-mashing and all. _Just a trick of the light._


	5. Chapter 5

Batman staggers as he lands in the alley, mind a blur of white noise as the coppery stench of fresh blood fills his nostrils. Again. Just like the last three crime scenes, and the two from the other night. His head is swimming and he finds himself leaning against the filthy alley wall before focusing on the body before him.

Wait, _bodies,_ plural. This time there are two victims.

He forces himself to examine the corpses. Like the other homicide victims he has discovered tonight, the cause of death for each appears to have been slashes and stab wounds. Disquietingly, the knife work on one victim displays an uncanny level of precision…

Just like the other bodies. _Familiar, almost like…_

Batman forces his mind away from the horrifying conclusions lurking just beyond his conscious reach, and focuses on the second victim. This one was killed slightly differently, with a single brutal slash across the throat instead of numerous wounds. As though the killer changed their modus operandi, or…

_Or they were interrupted._

Revolted, Batman turns away from the mutilated shells of former humanity at his feet and fights down his rebellious stomach to avoid contaminating a crime scene with vomit.

Against his will, memories spin through his mind and weave a horrifying picture. Flashes of movement in the corner of his eye, glints of blades gone when he spun to look, ominous little giggles and whispers on the edge of his hearing. Glimpses of a familiar figure as Batman tracked the killer from scene to scene, and a final damning view of the man’s back as he crouched over the last victim, lifted his blade, and fled.

_A Talon._

_Dick._

If the magic spell is escalating, taking greater hold of his children’s minds, and _this_ is the result, then Batman has done the unforgivable.

Batman’s mind cringes in horror at the thought, and desperately seeks alternate explanations for what he has seen.

_Maybe it wasn’t Dick after all. The Court of Owls was destroyed, but that doesn’t necessarily mean all their Talons were. Perhaps there’s still one out there, running amok._

Somewhat relieved at having an explanation, _any_ explanation that means he didn’t damn _his son_ to becoming a _murderer_ just to selfishly spend more time with him, Batman gathers his shaken composure and calls in the killings.

He has to borrow a gawking teenager’s phone because his is still buried somewhere in his third son’s mountain of purloined electronics, which means enduring the indignity of proving to Gordon this isn’t a crank call. Apparently it is _very_ common for teenagers to imitate Batman’s voice for pranking purposes.

Then he swings out, trying to ignore his growing unease.

He nearly succeeds.

_Dick is fine. He’s safe and sound, back at the Manor with his brothers. Of course he is. Once I’m home I’ll just… check on them, and make sure._

*

Dick stumbles into the nest with an uncharacteristic absence of his usual grace and immediately collapses in a state of total mental and physical exhaustion.

“Grayson! Are you well? Quickly, fool, tell me what you have done to yourself!” Damian demands as his large hands pat at Dick clumsily, searching for wounds.

A nudge against his side and Jason’s deep voice, speaking in softly reassuring tones. “Relax, Bat Brat, I don’t think any of this fuckin’ blood is his.”

“Let’s get him more comfortable.” Tim’s practical voice this time, and then Dick feels himself being lifted by strong clawed hands and placed on the soft pile of pillows and blankets they’ve all been sleeping in every night.

“Sorry, guys,” he manages through a yawn. “I totally dropped the ball on my phase of the plan.” He frowns, eyes drifting closed.

“I meant to follow B on patrol and just kind of keep stalking him and being generally menacing, like I did last night. Maybe do some more creepy whispering, mention the Court of Owls a few times, you know. But then I caught the trail of that serial slasher again, the one whose first two victims I found last night… it was pretty bad. Three dead before I even came close to catching up, and then I got there just as the last victim died, and didn’t manage to catch the slasher before he cut his own throat to avoid being taken alive.”

Jason growls, and Tim sighs as Damian nods. “Of course, Grayson, capturing a criminal is obviously far more important than our siege against Father’s stubbornness.”

Dick smiles a little, relieved at their understanding. “The guy had a League of Assassins blade. From what he said, I think he was cast out of the League and the killings were some kind of act of rebellion? I took the blade with me in case we can get any more information from it. I didn’t have time to investigate further; Batman landed just after I took off so I’m sure he probably called it in and has it all in hand by now.”

Damian frowns, carefully examining the blade. “I recognize this instrument. I suspect I know the identity of the assailant, and if I am correct then we are well rid of him.” He shudders slightly, large hands clenching into fists. “He was a skilled assassin, but after immersion in the Lazarus Pit grew so mad even Grandfather feared him and tried to have him permanently killed. He escaped, and was not heard from again. Perhaps he was here attempting to raise trouble in Batman’s city to draw Grandfather’s attention or in some crazed effort to regain his favor.”

“Stupid fuck got what he deserved,” Jason glares, ears flat against his head and teeth bared in a snarl.

“I just wish I could have caught him sooner.” Dick closes his eyes trying not to see images of the six victims who died before he could rescue them.

“Are you okay, Dick?” Tim curls around him, nestling against his side warmly. “I know it sucks when you can’t save everyone.”

“I’ll be fine. At least the guy is off the streets now.” But Dick’s shivering a little, even though it isn’t really cold.

“Do not be an idiot, Grayson. You do not need to always be strong around _us.”_ Dick feels Damian lying against his other side, movements gentle despite his harsh tones, and smiles softly.

He feels a warm weight curled up on his chest, and lifts a hand to gently stroke Jason’s fur.

_I have the best little brothers ever._

*

Bruce hesitates at the entrance to Tim’s nest, torn between the need to _know_ and the desire to remain in blissful ignorance. He squares his shoulders. He’s the goddamn Batman; if his actions have led to one of his sons inadvertently committing a series of brutal murders while under the influence of a magic spell, he needs to face that truth and do what little he can to attempt to make amends.

He carefully, silently enters the nest, avoiding stepping on loose coffee beans or tripping on the many cables and cords that twine through the walls and across the floor linking the numerous devices of which the nest is composed like a vast web.

As he emerges in the main chamber near the center of the nest, he blinks in surprise.

 _Oh thank god,_ he thinks, overwhelmed by sheer relief.

Dick is lying there on a heap of pillows and blankets, sleeping peacefully. He’s pinned down on the right by Tim’s sinuous body, on the left by Damian’s monstrous bulk, and to top it all off Jason is lying on his chest, rising and falling slightly with each of Dick’s gentle inhalations.

There’s no way he could have slipped out to commit those murders, not with all of his brothers asleep on him. And Tim is _very_ jealous of his hoard; he scorches Bruce’s fingers every time he tries to steal so much as his cell phone back from the nest, so there’s no way he’d let an entire _brother_ escape on his watch.

Bruce accidentally lets out an audible breath of relief, and Tim’s eyes snap open and fix on him.

Moments later, Bruce wiggles slightly as he attempts to get comfortable in his involuntary new position partially pinned under Tim’s body, wedged between the dragon and Dick. “I still need to write my reports,” he tries, weakly attempting to escape.

Tim growls warningly, thin plumes of smoke wafting from his nostrils. Bruce goes still and Tim _purrs,_ settling down with one clawed arm over Bruce’s middle. Dick murmurs something inaudible in his sleep and turns toward Bruce, tucking his head under Bruce’s chin as Jason squirms in his sleep and sprawls across both Dick’s and Bruce’s chests.

_Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to get the reports done in the morning instead._

Bruce allows his body to relax, surprised by how comfortable the boys have managed to make their nest. Surrounded by the scent of coffee and the warmth and comfort of his beloved sons, Bruce closes his eyes.

And tries not to think about the dark stains he noticed on Dick’s clothing and face.

 _I’m still not convinced, Alfred,_ he thinks weakly. _It could be anything, after all. Barbecue sauce, or ketchup. Maybe it’s lipstick? Dick’s always been a charmer after all..._ He pushes down the knowledge of how very unlikely it is anyone would find Dick _charming_ in his current state of undead horror.

Too bad Bruce can’t check the Manor security footage on the Batcomputer, just to make certain his suspicions are unfounded. Unfortunately, Tim refuses to allow him access to the nest past this chamber, and the Batcomputer is hidden somewhere far deeper in the structure. Additionally, all of the Manor security cameras have been incorporated into the nest in some way and would thus be useless for trying to track Dick’s movements.

He forces his mind away from painful, disquieting thoughts, and falls asleep to the gentle susurrus of his sweet, lovable, _innocent_ children’s steady chorus of breathing and rumbling growls.

*

Bruce stares in disbelief at Tim and Jason, who stare back at him like he just said something unbelievably outrageous instead of making what he thought was an innocuously positive comment on their steady, long-term romantic relationship. He was just trying to conduct a nice, normal fatherly conversation when he awakened and found himself alone in the nest with the pair, and now they’re looking at him askance like he’s gone insane.

“What do you mean, you aren’t together?” _Is this some kind of strange joke?_ “But… you go on dates all the time!”

“We _patrol_ together, B. Nobody thinks I’m fuckin’ Dickie just ‘cause we patrol together sometimes.”

“You and Tim _moved in together!_ We had a congratulatory party for you! For heaven’s sake, you’ve been together for _years!”_

“Wait, I thought that was just a _housewarming_ party? Roommates are a thing, you know!” Tim pipes up defensively, and Bruce rounds on him.

“You _wear his clothes to bed!”_

“Of course I do. They’re comfy.”

Bruce rakes his fingers through his hair. _How can they attempt to deny this? It’s so obvious, it’s painful._ “He’s on your health insurance as your _domestic partner!”_

“Well, of _course_ he is! Jay didn’t have any medical insurance, what if something happened and he had to go to a _hospital,_ Bruce?”

And that… makes sense, but… “You give presents as a couple!”

“Saves fuckin’ money, asshole.”

“Your main apartment _only has one bed._ You two _sleep_ together. In the same bed _._ ” _There’s no way they can argue their way out of_ that _one-_

They don’t even try. “Keeps the nightmares away! Totally fuckin’ platonic, old man.” Jason gives a foxy grin, leaning back comfortably against Tim.

“But…” Bruce’s shoulders slump and he just gives up, trudging toward the exit of the nest.

When he glances back over his shoulder, Tim is curled protectively around Jason, who is licking Tim’s face as the dragon’s eyes drift closed in pleasure and he rumbles a happy purr, nuzzling affectionately closer.

Jason’s ear twitches and Tim automatically scratches behind it with a single, infinitely careful claw. Jason growls his happiness, nestling into Tim’s embrace and using a paw to flip a coffee bean up into the air. Tim catches the coffee bean and swallows it whole, humming with pleasure.

 _They are_ so _dating,_ Bruce thinks mulishly.


	6. Chapter 6

Batman crouches broodingly beside a stone gargoyle, mind awhirl with poisonous thoughts he cannot allow to gain traction. _Dick would never. Not him, not my little ray of sunshine._

But paternal love doesn’t change the fact that he returned to the last crime scene this afternoon in one of his rare appearances as Batman during the day, and found a shop security camera with footage from the other night.

_Not overlooking the crime scene, but with a clear view of the access to the alley. Clear enough to show a Talon, recognizably_ Dick, _entering the alleyway, remaining for several minutes, and then fleeing the scene_ covered in blood _just before I arrived._

He practically begs his brain to continue deluding itself and him, for just a while longer, because if what he suspects is actually true-

His brain stutters vehement denial, but this time he’s unable to halt the onslaught of self-recriminations. _If Dick has killed, then this is all my fault. I could have allowed the boys to change back_ days _ago, could have prevented all of this. Those five people my little bucket of sunlight slaughtered last night, the other two my sweet rainbow bubble brutalized the night before last…. They would all be alive, had it not been for my selfishness and desire to keep my boys close._

He groans in pained horror, and the small children gathered under the church he’s brooding atop giggle and nudge each other. One particularly brave or stupid little boy darts forward and throws a pebble at him. Batman growls as it bounces off his nose, turning to glare directly at the children who all shriek in pleased terror and run away to peek at him daringly from around the corner.

This is exactly why Batman doesn’t do daylight.

His thoughts return to their tangled morass of despondency, and he realizes he has to go back to the Manor and face the consequences of what he has done. Dropping to the ground, he uses his gauntlet to wipe off most of the bird droppings which have accumulated on his cowl and shoulders during his prolonged brooding session, and then grasps the pink handlebars of the Batbike. Hunching comically over the tiny child’s bicycle, he starts for home.

The children stop following him and shouting with laughter as they pelt him with pebbles and litter after six blocks or so, which feels like something of a victory.

Batman’s having a bad day. He’ll take what he can get.

*

Tim coils on his mountain of coffee beans, surrounded by the soothing hum of electronics, thinking. Jason is away, probably caching more food somewhere Bruce won’t find it until it has had a chance to spoil in a manner suitably abhorrent and dramatic. They’d heard Bruce’s disgusted shout all the way down to the Cave this morning when he returned to his bedroom to dress after awakening in the nest with them only to find Jason’s stash of rotting fish lovingly placed in Bruce’s bed.

Dick’s been hard at work trying to make up for his failure to properly get to Bruce last night on patrol, lurking in shadows and only speaking in creepy rhymes. He’s out right now laying in wait so he can stalk Bruce once the man gets back from wherever he went when he left the Manor earlier.

And Tim himself has continued his depredations, slipping out at night to gather electronics from an ever-expanding radius around the Manor and displaying a carefully calculated escalating pattern of animalistic tendencies designed to disturb Bruce.

It isn’t going to be enough.

Bruce isn’t cracking nearly as quickly as Tim had hoped. He narrows his eyes, smoke curling idly from his nostrils. He smiles, and Damian recoils slightly, eying him in alarm from where the ghoul had been reading quietly on the pillow pile. _Ah, yes, my smile looks a bit different in this form… all those teeth._

“Damian,” Tim looks at his little brother. “The rest of us are already doing our part, and Batman isn’t caving. It’s up to you now.”

Damian sucks in a breath, looking slightly unsure. He frowns, staring at his enormous, gruesome hands. “I… have several ideas, for Father’s discomfiture; however, I am not certain…”

“Don’t worry about that. Jason and I have been brainstorming, and we have plenty of ideas on how to back you up. The weather tonight’s going to be perfect for this, too…”

Tim forgets himself and smiles again, causing Damian to flinch and edge away from him a bit, suspicious. “Don’t worry, Damian. We’ll pass Batman’s test, one way or another, and be human again by morning.”

The ghoul’s craggy, misshapen face twists in a shyly hopeful smile. “You think so?”

Tim feels an absurd curl of affection for his ridiculous, aggressive, annoyingly _cute_ little brother. He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure of it.”

_Now, time to get everyone together and enact the final phase… If this escalation doesn’t work, nothing will._

*

Batman staggers into the Cave, soaking wet and covered in mud due to the thunderstorm that arose while he was pedaling laboriously up the lane to the Manor as night fell. The Batbike didn’t survive the inevitable crash in the gathering darkness and slippery conditions, so he left the crumpled wreck where it fell and lurched across the remaining distance on his own sore feet.

“Boys?” He calls hoarsely. He’s freezing, shivering with cold as reaction sets in and he could sure use a cuddle with the space heater that is Tim right now. Perhaps he can convince the boy to light a small, cozy fire to warm him up a little.

Something’s wrong. “Boys!” No one’s answering.

Cautiously, Batman approaches the entrance to the nest. A waft of heat is his only warning and he drops to the ground just in time to avoid the gout of flame that arcs through the air above him. _“Tim!_ Stop, it’s me! _Bruce!”_ He yanks off the cowl, hoping it will help his startled son recognize him in the darkness.

But the glittering eyes staring at him out of the depths of the nest hold no recognition at all, and Bruce drags himself to his feet and staggers back as the _dragon_ that isn’t his son anymore growls and snaps at him, hissing before it retreats into the nest again. It resumes whatever it had been doing before he interrupted it…

_Oh dear god._

He gags at the sight, unable to process what his eyes are seeing.

Bruce turns away, sickened, and manages to make it a few feet before he falls to his knees and vomits. The growling, smacking sounds of the dragon eating follow him, _taunting_ him, and his brain pounds with the image of soft red fur stained by blood, the dragon’s teeth buried in…

_No no no no no NO-_

_What have I done, what have I_ done, _Jason Jay-lad Jay my son, my courageous resilient brave outspoken son, Tim oh my sweet smart quiet thoughtful boy, no no no…_

The sound of something ripping makes him wince and flinch. From what he saw, Jason was gone long before he returned to the Cave. Tim too, mentally at least.

He needs to find help. If he can just get this damned spell reversed at last, _like he should have just done in the first place,_ perhaps he can at least save _some_ of his precious boys. Dick and Damian may not be as far gone, and maybe Tim’s humanity can be retrieved somehow…. With time and therapy… His mind returns involuntarily to the gruesome mental image of Tim _eating Jason’s tiny corpse,_ and he revises his mental statement to _all the therapy, for all of them, forever…_ maybe they’ll be able to keep going.

Maybe.

Though how Tim can _ever_ possibly recover from mauling, mutilating and _devouring_ his boyfriend, Bruce can’t even begin to imagine.

_Alfred, oh my dear friend, you were right. You were so right, and I so very wrong. I’m… I’m_ convinced _now, Alfred, too late, far too late for my precious_ boys…

With a muffled sob, he darts forward from his hiding place and up the stairs to the Manor, the snarling, animalistic noises following him accusingly all the way, a grim reminder of what he has in his hubris lost.

The first clue that something is terribly wrong here as well is the darkness, followed by the silence. Alfred should be laying out dinner by this time, moving about the kitchen performing his duties. The kitchen is quiet and still, and Bruce is aware of a horrible, clenching feeling of sickening terror in his gut as he considers the possibilities.

A menacing giggle from the darkness causes the fine hair on the back of his neck to rise and his spine to tingle.

“Dick?” Bruce tries. “Dickie, my boy, Dick, it’s me. Bruce, it’s Bruce. I know you’re confused, son, and I’m going to do my best to get you help and make sure you’re okay. No matter what, you’re my son and I promise I’ll take care of you. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, Dickie, it wasn’t your fault and everything’s going to be okay now.” He edges further into the gloomy kitchen. “…Dickiebird?”

The sound of steel sliding against steel is his only warning, but it’s enough. Bruce rolls, coming to his feet across the room as the Talon strikes and buries his blade to the hilt in the Manor wall.

_Alfred’s going to hate that,_ Bruce thinks crazily, as though Alfred isn’t almost certainly already dead and most likely stuffed into one of the upright freezers by the monster before him.

The monster who used to be his _son._

He reaches out a trembling hand, wanting nothing so much as to stroke his boy’s over-long hair out of his yellow eyes. _My boy, my sunshine boy… I am so sorry, lad, this is all my fault. What have I_ done?

The Talon recoils from his hand, falling into a ready stance and raising his remaining blade in one hand, the other hand ready to lash out with long gleaming talons. They’re covered in blood.

As Bruce looks more closely, he realizes the rest of the boy’s uniform is gleaming wetly in the darkness, and he has fresh blood splashed across his face and especially around his mouth. Bruce doesn’t want to think about the implications of _that._

_Oh god, no. Alfred, I am so very sorry, my old friend._ His heart wrenches with the same grief he felt when his parents were killed before his eyes, even worse this time because _it’s all Bruce’s fault._ The gaping loss of _Alfred_ wrenches the chasm in his chest from Jason’s _dying again_ even wider, and Bruce gasps in agony, staggering backwards.

The Talon watches him go, but allows him to leave as his faltering steps grow quicker and quicker, leaving the Manor and all its terrible ghosts behind.

_I just wanted my boys, together, for a little while. Three weeks of my children around me. I never meant… I never wanted_ this. _Jason, Alfred, Tim, Dick, I’m_ sorry. _I am so sorry, so very sorry for what I have done to all of you…_

“Alfred,” he chokes out. “Oh, _Alfred,_ my dear friend, _I’m convinced now._ You were right, _of course_ you were right all along, just like you always are. Please, Alfred, _please_ come back now. Rub it in all you like, tell me you told me so, I don’t care, just _please,_ don’t be dead. _Please be_ _alive again._ Alfred, _I’m begging you… Please.”_ His hoarse voice breaks painfully and he chokes on the sore lump in his throat.

Tears pour down his cheeks mixing with the rain plummeting from the sky, and he falls to his knees in the mud, sobbing uncontrollably. He digs his fingers into his hair, yanking, attempting to ground himself with the external pain but unable to get past the agony of grief and remorse tearing him apart from the inside.

A strange noise, and he opens his eyes and blinks, trying to focus through the tears. _What…?_

There’s a shadowed, hunched form moving among the trees to the side. Bruce tenses, trying to determine who or _what_ the interloper is, and then recognizes the outline of Damian’s grotesque shape.

_Damian!_ A blaze of hope lights within Bruce’s battered heart. _If even_ one _of my beloved sons has survived this debacle mostly intact, I will be able to drag myself up and keep going for his sake. My little Damian, my tiny fierce boy, so proud and still so young and innocent, he still needs me. I can still save Damian._

Bruce hauls his protesting, aching body to his feet and manages a step toward the hulking form of his youngest, hunched low over something Bruce can’t see yet. “Damian!” he calls. “Damian, did Dick or Tim hurt you?”

Panic clutches as him as he imagines Damian’s fear and pain if he was present when either of his brothers lost their humanity. _What if they attacked him? Oh_ god, _what if he saw Tim kill Jason-?_

“Damian, I’m here now! I’ve got you!” Bruce lurches toward his boy, reaching for him, wanting nothing so much as to clutch his one remaining son close and never let him go again. As he draws near, lightning shatters the sky and in the eerie illumination Bruce sees what has his son’s attention. He reels back in disbelieving revulsion, slamming into a tree and then falling to the ground. He continues to propel himself backwards, boots scrabbling at the wet earth and gauntleted hands clawing at the mud to _get away I have to get away dear god no no NO-_

He manages to retreat far enough to be able to not _see_ the abomination currently being enacted by what was once his little boy, shaking and panting as his stomach roils and attempts to empty itself over and over again despite having nothing left to expel.

Bruce collapses face down in the mud, trying desperately to stop his mind playing the images of _his youngest son, crouched in the family graveyard, clawed hands dipping into the open grave before him, growling and vigorously consuming whatever he’s pulling up…_

He gags again, darkness washing over his vision.

_No._ He forces himself to focus. _I may still be able to save… some of them. If nothing else I must try. I have to at least_ try _to fix this._

But inside he knows.

There will be no fixing this.

What can he possibly do now, to even _begin_ to atone for the calamity he has wrought?

“Dear god. What have I done?” Bruce whispers, staggering, white faced, away from the despoiled graveyard. Away from the tainted Manor, and the ruin of his family. He has had enough.

Finally, he has had _enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _What have I done_


	7. Chapter 7

_“Kal-El!”_ Bruce roars to the thundering, uncaring sky, falling to his knees in the mud, head thrown back and agonized face exposed to the driving rain.

Faster than the eye can see, a flying form cuts through the storm and plummets to the ground at Bruce’s feet, Clark’s concerned face right in front of Bruce as the man of steel’s hands hover worriedly over him.

“Oh, _Bruce,”_ Clark whispers, horrified by his old friend’s haggard appearance. “Oh, Rao! What _happened_ to you? Who did this?” He starts to gather Bruce tenderly into his arms, uncaring of the mud and other filth coating his bedraggled form. Bruce finds himself relaxing marginally as he breathes Clark’s familiar scent and all but melts involuntarily into the other man’s comforting hold.

Bruce blinks, mind not quite caught up with events, and then he begins to struggle against the admittedly very welcome embrace. _I don’t_ deserve _comfort, especially not his, no matter how much I may want it._ He swallows, not for the first time wishing Clark weren’t quite so kind and considerate. The man makes it difficult to remember friendship is all he could ever want from Bruce, and probably not even _that_ for much longer. _If he knew what I have done, he would never speak to me again._ “Clark, there’s no _time_ for this! I need Zatanna _now_!”

Clark’s brow furrows in confusion. He continues to gently hold Bruce, wrapping him in his long red cape in an attempt to dry him off and warm him up. When he speaks, his voice is slow, careful and gentle as though speaking to an accident victim. “Okay, that’s just fine, Bruce. I’m sure she’ll be happy to come help you out with anything you need. Um, why don’t you just give her a call while I work on getting you inside so we can let Alfred take care of you-?”

“No!” Bruce snaps. The last thing he wants is to face the horrors within the Manor again, let alone confront what happened to Alfred. And besides, he _can’t_ just call Zatanna… “Tim’s using all my electronic devices in his nest; he incorporated them into his hoard _days_ ago. He almost bit me when I tried to check my email earlier, and that was while he still retained some measure of his humanity. I just caught him _eating Jason_ a few minutes ago _;_ there’s no way I’m going back in there to try to wrest my phone away just to make a call.”

Inexplicably, Clark flushes bright red and begins to stutter. “ _Oh!_ Oh, well that sounds embarrassing, no _wonder_ you’re out of sorts.” He clumsily pats Bruce’s hip through the cape. “Young people can be a touch _enthusiastic_ when they’re courting _,_ I suppose. I’m sure Tim will apologize to you later for snapping at you. And it’s not like their being a couple comes as a shock to you, at least, I mean, those two have been together for _years._ Really, the most surprising thing is you haven’t walked in on them in a compromising position before now!” He smiles encouragingly, still blushing pink. “Don’t worry, Bruce, you’ll get past this and all laugh about it together someday!”

 _Clark, you moron! That’s not what I meant!_ “Clark, you moron, that isn’t what I meant at all! When I last saw them, Tim was in the process of _physically eviscerating Jason’s dead body with his teeth and consuming his steaming viscera.”_ He glares at his stupid, stupid friend. “Also, they _claim_ they’re not a couple.”

Clark pauses, eying Bruce carefully. “Okaaaay...” At least he’s _finally_ beginning to look appropriately concerned.

“Damn it, Clark! We need Zatanna _immediately!_ Ja- Jason’s _dead_ , Tim’s completely feral and may begin expanding his hoard and slaughtering untold numbers at any moment, Dick has been carrying out who knows how many assassinations at night, and now Damian’s _eating human flesh!”_

“Shh, it’s okay, Bruce,” Clark whispers as he tucks Bruce closer into his embrace, rubbing his neck soothingly with one hand and his back with the other. “I _swear_ I will get you the help you need.”

_Oh thank god. Finally, someone to help me untangle this damn mess…_

“…And as soon as you’re in your right mind again, we’ll find the boys and you’ll be able to see for yourself that everyone’s just fine.” Clark continues reassuringly, gently stroking Bruce’s wet hair back from his face.

_What._

“No, you _blithering idiot_ , I’m not insane or drugged!” Bruce jerks free from Clark’s hold and staggers, wild-eyed, toward the graveyard. “See?! See, there’s Damian! He’s eating Mother’s forearm! I’m not crazy, damn it, can’t you see _he’s right there!”_

Clark isn’t looking where Bruce is pointing, though; he’s just staring at Bruce with his huge, sad, kicked-puppy eyes. “Oh, _Bruce…”_ He whispers, looking and sounding like his big tender heart is breaking.

Bruce shakes his head vigorously, stumbling in the direction of the Manor. “You don’t believe me, do you. I’ll show you! I’ll show _everyone!”_ He cackles maniacally, wobbling on his feet and listing dangerously to one side as he gestures wildly. “Alfred’s in the freezer, and Dick’s covered in blood in the kitchen with his swords! Don’t try to fight him, he heals too fast. Timmy’s in the Cave, gnawing Jason’s bones. You’ll see! You’ll believe me soon!”

He trips over nothing and collapses again, only saved from faceplanting in the mud by the big strong arms that encircle him and carefully draw him into Clark’s broad chest. Dimly, he realizes he’s shaking.

“It’s okay, Bruce. It’s all going to be okay. I know whatever you’re seeing, whatever you’re imagining must be so _terrible,_ but I _swear,_ it’s all in your head…” Clark sounds close to tears himself as he gently wipes his thumbs under Bruce’s eyes and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, tenderly trying to reassure him.

Bruce’s mouth drops open slightly as he stares at Clark, unable to process the soft, _loving_ expression in his old friend’s eyes, years of suppressed longing and starved affections long-thought unreciprocated rising unbidden within him like the tide at the sight. Clark stills, staring into Bruce’s eyes with something like incredulous hope in his. _“Bruce,”_ he whispers, voice awed. “I… _really?”_

A faint sound interrupts the charged moment before Bruce can answer, and the reality of the situation slams into him again, driving out all thoughts of anything but the horrible mess he has made of his family’s lives. _Of course_ now _is the moment Clark and I realize we both have feelings for each other,_ he thinks, dully. _Now, when it’s too late and the instant he finds out what I’ve done he’ll be disgusted and turn his back on me forever. Just one more thing that I’ve ruined._

As though to remind Bruce of his many failures, Damian chooses that moment to stagger out of the woods, clutching a gleaming white bone festooned in raw flesh, strands hanging down. As Clark and Bruce watch in stunned horror, Damian swings his loathsome treat up to his gaping maw and wrenches off a bite with his jagged teeth.

Clark _leaps_ fifteen feet into the air, clutching at Bruce protectively and jerking him straight up into the sky. _“Oh sweet merciful Rao what is that_ thing?! _What is that, and what is it_ eating _oh Rao it’s horrible, HORRIBLE!”_ His eyes turn red to blast the apparition away from them, but Bruce manages to shove his head to the side at the last moment and harmlessly redirect the blast.

“Clark, _no!_ That’s _Damian!”_

Slowly, Clark lowers them to the ground, mouth agape, still staring in abject horror and pity at the wreck of Bruce’s youngest son.

“It’s my fault, all my fault,” Bruce whispers, tears gathering in his eyes again. “The boys… all my boys were hit by a magic spell that transformed them. They came to the Manor for help. I didn’t… I never wanted _this!_ I _swear!”_

Bruce jams a fist in his mouth and bites down, unable to muffle the sob that forces its way out.

“I just wanted to spend time at home with all my boys for a few weeks. I love them, and I _missed_ them so much, and-” He sobs again, pulling away from a distressed Clark and falling to his knees. “I just wanted them all home at the same time. I never meant to hurt them like this. Oh _god,_ Jason’s _dead again_ and Tim and Dick are _murderers_ and Damian’s a _cannibal!_ Dick killed _Alfred,_ Clark! What have I _done?”_

And he breaks down, his strong body wracked with grief as Clark just stares back and forth between Bruce and Damian, hands extended like he wants desperately to help but isn’t sure how to even start.

“Oh, shit, oh _fuckity fuck what the fuck,_ B’s fuckin’ _crying oh my god what._ This wasn’t part of the fuckin’ plan, holy shit he’s a goddamn wreck, oh my god, _what the fuck do I do?!”_

That voice… is Bruce imagining it? He blinks back tears and turns toward that beloved deep voice he thought he would never hear again, not in this life. But Jason’s his special _resilient_ son, the one who’s already come back to him miraculously once before. Is it possible…?

“Jay-lad?” Bruce whispers tremulously, almost afraid to hope.

The little fox comes trotting into view, fur stained dark from the horrible wounds Tim in his atavistic madness ripped into his tiny form.

 _“My god!”_ Bruce reaches a shaking hand for his precious second son, voice breaking with emotion. “Jason! I’m so _sorry!_ I never meant to hurt you, never meant to cause any of you harm. I shouldn’t have been so selfish, using the spell as an excuse to keep you all here just so I could spend more time with you…”

He shudders, breaking off as another sob wracks his body, and Jason outright _panics._

 _“DAD!”_ The little fox _leaps_ into his arms, nuzzling frantically at his chin and neck. “Oh _shit,_ holy shit, _no,_ Jesus, please don’t cry, I don’t know what the fuck to do if _you cry,_ fuck, we took this shit too far, we didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ _sorry!_ Please don’t cry, _Dad!_ ”

Bruce wraps his arms around his boy, holding him to his chest and just allowing his fractured heart this one piece of hope. “Oh Jason,” he whispers reverently. “You’re my strong, my _special_ boy. So special. Of course you came back to me again. I should have known you would. And if I have you, I can go on. We’ll get your brothers changed back, and then together we’ll help them regain their humanity. Oh, thank you, son. _Thank you_ for coming back to me.”

He buries his face in the fox’s soft fur, and _weeps._

Clark clears his throat, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll go ahead and call Zatanna then?”

Bruce rocks Jason wordlessly in his arms as Clark places the call. Damian crouches nearby and observes from a safe distance, still gnawing on his ghastly snack. A dark winged shape in the sky resolves into Tim, who lands behind Damian and settles in to watch. Yellow eyes reflect the light in the trees just beyond the clearing where they wait.

Clark stares at the three monster children, wide-eyed, and carefully places his body between them and where Bruce kneels holding his one miraculously sane son tightly as the rain finally dies down and the moon peeks luminously through the clouds.

Zatanna appears soon after, checks out the spell on the boys, and scoffs. “This is so easy to reverse. Why did you leave it this long?” She eyes Bruce’s current disheveled appearance. “Somehow I find myself doubting your claim this was actually a training exercise.”

“I didn’t realize the consequences would be so dire! If I had even _suspected_ they would begin _losing their humanity…”_ Bruce is wretched with guilt and regret. _If only I hadn’t been so selfish…_

Zatanna raises her brows. “Um… so. Well, this is awkward. That’s not actually a potential consequence of this spell.”

“What? Yes it is!” _Of course it is, I just_ watched it happen.

Zatanna shakes her head in brisk negation. “No, that’s not possible. Their human minds are intact and unaffected. See?” She smiles and holds a hand out toward his monster children, crouching together in the shadows.

Bruce cries out in protest, trying to bodily block his poor insane boys from biting or savaging her. He bows his body over Jason in his arms while giving the other boys his back; he’ll hand Jason to Clark when the boys attack, to keep him safe, and-

“Calm down, B, they ain’t gonna bite anyone.” Bruce straightens slightly as Jason speaks up. _Why would he think…?_

“Your grammar is atrocious, Todd.” Bruce jumps in shock at Damian’s _surprisingly sane-sounding_ voice.

 _“Damian?”_ He whispers in wonder. _Two of them, I still have two of my boys._

“Well, maybe I’ll just bite _you,_ brat.”

Tim approaches slowly and nuzzles Jason where he still rests in Bruce’s arms, causing Bruce to tighten his grip on the little fox protectively before he realizes the dragon has no intention of making him a meal. “No biting Damian, Jay, he’s still in ghoul form.”

_I’m beginning to think I may have misread this situation somehow…_

“You think Demon’s gonna rip my head off, Baby Bird?”

Tim scoffs. “No, but he’s filthy from spending so much time in the graveyard. You might get an infection from biting him.”

Damian growls, and Dick hugs him. “It’s okay, Little D! I still love you no matter what you look and smell like or how muddy you are!”

 _And Dick is still lucid as well. That’s_ wonderful, _but what…? How...?_

“Unhand me, Grayson!”

Bruce stares. And stares. His mind skips like a record, unable to reconcile the nightmarish events of the past day with the playful domesticity he is seeing now. He wants so much for everything to be okay, but is afraid to believe it after what he has seen.

“Just allow your minds to imagine your true names, and you will assume your usual forms.” Zatanna casts the spell and smiles as one after another, the boys resume their normal human appearances.

 _“Fuck!”_ Jason writhes in Bruce’s arms, attempting to escape his tight embrace.

 _Like hell am I letting go of you now, not after what I went through tonight. I need this, damn it!_ Bruce tightens his grip on his precious boy.

 _“Let me go, B! God damn it, I’m fuckin’_ naked! DAD! _Motherfuck!”_ Jason squeals, blushing bright red all over, trying simultaneously to cover his genitalia and wrest himself free and failing at both efforts. The other boys are blushing and covering themselves with their hands.

Tim bites his lip, looking extremely remorseful. “Um, sorry if we went a little over the top trying to convince you to lift the spell, B. We just wanted to be human again, and not have to jump through hoops for whatever you were trying to test us on this time.” Tim flushes delicately, looking down. “You seemed _really_ upset when you thought I was eating Jason. At the time I was just focusing on finding an effective way to implement the plan to get us transformed back, but in retrospect I realize that might’ve been taking things too far.” He winces. “Um, okay, it was _definitely_ taking things too far. I’m sorry, that was really mean of us.” The boy looks up contritely. “Oh, and I promise I was aiming carefully with my fire. Even if you hadn’t ducked, it wouldn’t have hit you.”

“Yeah, and I swear I wasn’t actually gonna stab you earlier!” Dick smiles winningly, and Bruce sucks in a gasp.

In the relief of realizing he didn’t actually destroy the boys’ humanity, he hadn’t remembered Dick’s victims. _Alfred, oh god…_ “Oh, Dick. You remember everything?” His heart clenches in pity. _How will Dickie ever be able to forgive himself? It wasn’t his fault, not at all, but he may never fully accept that…_

The boy looks puzzled. “Of course I do! We all planned it together, you know.”

Bruce winces. _They must be at least somewhat morally compromised by this experience, then. No matter. I will do whatever it takes to help my poor, confused, homicidal boys._ “You… killed Alfred, Dick. You also killed seven other people that I know of, with your knives and talons,” he says carefully, ready to gently explain to his bewildered, addled child that killing is wrong.

“ _What?!”_ Dick stares at him in shocked horror, then bursts into appalled laughter. “Oh my god, Bruce, _Alfred?!_ And the slasher victims, you thought that was _me?_ Oh no! _Wow,_ no wonder you looked so freaked out when you found me eating jam in the kitchen because Alfred, _who is still alive by the way oh my god,_ left to go to the store and I got hungry.”

_Jam. What._

Dick chuckles. “I really wanted strawberry jam after seeing how much fun Tim was having licking it off of Jason, and then it was just _sitting_ there on the counter. No spoons though, so I ended up making kind of a mess. Um, but yeah, those serial stabbing victims were the work of a League of Assassins slasher. He slit his own throat rather than being brought in.” Dick shrugs apologetically. “I tried to catch him, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

The pieces slot into place one by one in Bruce’s mind, and slowly, the vise loosens.

None of his children are dead.

They’re not feral, or murderers, or…

“Damian?” He looks at his youngest suddenly.

The boy steps closer, blinking up at him trustingly. “Yes, Father?”

Bruce examines the… _thing…_ in his child’s hand, and then groans. _“Tofurkey?”_ The unmentionable horror his youngest has been gnawing on is nothing more than a _tofurkey on a stick._

The little boy smiles, straightening his shoulders proudly. “Have we successfully passed your test, then, Father? We managed to convince you to transform us back before the deadline, after all!”

And Bruce. Stares from one to another of his children. Dick and Tim and Damian are all staring at him expectantly, and Jason’s just muttering under his breath, having clearly figured out they’ve all been drastically misunderstanding each other somehow this whole time.

He sighs. “Boys, there was no test. I just told Zatanna that so I could get away with keeping you with me for longer.” His shoulders slump. “I just wanted to spend time with all of you because I miss you,” he whispers, closing his eyes briefly in embarrassed shame.

They all stare at him, wide eyed. “Oh my god,” Tim whispers, blinking in astonishment. “This is… I’ve made a grave miscalculation.”

“It’s okay, Tim.” Bruce sighs, and Tim slips over to his side and leans in to hug him. Bruce enjoys the hug for a moment, and then frowns. “Tim, you’re naked, son.” He glances around, startled. “You’re all naked!”

Quickly, Bruce sets Jason down and removes Clark’s cape, wrapping it around Tim’s shoulders protectively and covering his slender nudity. He pulls off his own cape as well and gently settles it on Damian’s shoulders so the sturdy little boy is completely shielded as well, and then nods, satisfied.

“And what the fuck am _I,_ chopped fuckin’ liver?” Jason mutters, crossing his arms defensively and glowering at his feet.

“You and Dick are both large enough not to lose heat as quickly as Tim and Damian.” Bruce frowns in concern at his second boy. “Are you getting cold? Come here.” Bruce pulls both Tim and Jason in for another hug.

 _I can’t believe they’re all okay,_ he thinks, nearly overwhelmed by a dizzying flood of relief.

As he reflects on the past few days, he finds himself glowing with pride over his boys’ admittedly impressive tactics and teamwork. _They worked so well together to drive me to the very brink of sanity. My boys._

His heart swells with love and he smiles fondly, then glances up only to meet Clark’s eyes and wonder how he ever managed to _miss_ the depth of affection there. _Perhaps it’s time to rethink my stance on metas in Gotham…_ He feels his smile nudge into a predatory smirk and watches Clark’s face flush as his blue eyes widen with interest.

“Group hug!” Dick leaps through the air, grinning, wrapping what feels like an inhuman number of arms and legs around them. He somehow captures Damian in the embrace as well, despite the little boy’s protests and furious attempts to escape. Surrounded by his boys and with Clark right by his side, Bruce just closes his eyes, soaking in the joy of the moment.

*

Jason finally manages to twist his way free of Bruce’s awkward fuckin’ deathgrip and slides to his feet, turning to hold Tim while Dick retaliates at their escape by squeezing Damian and Bruce even tighter.

“Missed havin’ arms to do this, Baby Bird.” Jason smiles doofily down at the shorter boy, glad as fuck this whole weird mess is finally over and no lasting harm seems to have been done except to everyone’s dignity and B’s already dubious mental health.

“Me too.” Tim snuggles into Jason’s gentle hug, twining his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders. They stand there a moment, just leaning into each other and enjoying the feeling of being _human_ again.

 _Can’t fuckin’ wait to sleep in our own goddamn bed again tonight. Jesus fuck but this is more fuckin’ family togetherness than I can fuckin’ stand. Need a break once in a while, Jesus Christ. Fuck, B’s such an asshole sometimes, but the poor fucker really meant well and we scared the_ shit _outta him here._

The painful image of Bruce _crying_ over them rises unbidden in his mind and he shoves it down, knowing even as he does so that tonight has changed something, definitely for the better, between him and his… well, his _Dad._

 _Shit, I ain’t gonna stay away again. Not if the poor sap’s willin’ to go through all_ this _shit just to spend time with his asshole kids. I can come back here like the others do and spend time with the poor asshole. Fuck. I feel like such a bastard now, but it’s almost worth it to see how much he really cares. I had no fuckin’ clue. Damn, if he reacts like_ this _to losin’ me now… well hell, I can almost believe he really did love me all along. Holy shit. I have a_ Dad.

Jason smiles softy to himself, blinking tears out of his eyes and feeling safer and more loved than he has at any point in his second life.

“Ah, congratulations are in order I see. I’d heard you were a couple but I haven’t seen you two in a while and so haven’t had a chance to offer my best wishes.” Zatanna is smiling at Jason and Tim.

And _that…_

 _Well, seriously, once coulda been Dickie makin’ a mistake, twice with Dames was a coincidence, third time with B makes it a fuckin’ pattern. The fuck does being mistaken for a couple_ four _times mean?_

Tim twitches in his arms, startled, and starts to deny it, then catches sight of the look on Jason’s face and stops, blushing prettily. Jason isn’t sure what his face looks like right now, but he’s _really fuckin’ liking the way that blush looks on Timmy._

_Wait, what…?_

Come to think of it, why _aren’t_ they a couple? They get along fuckin’ _great_ these days, they’re completely compatible, they fuckin’ _live together already._

_For fuck’s sake, if we get together I won’t hafta keep hidin’ my goddamn morning erections from him when we wake up spooning. And he’s so fuckin’ smart and pretty and sweet…_

“Well, maybe…” Jason tentatively rubs his thumbs on Tim’s hips where his hands settled during the hug.

Tim bites his lip. “Actually...” He smiles shyly, looking up at Jason with something luminously hopeful in his big blue eyes.

“Yeah?” Jason grins, not afraid to do something reckless when Tim’s looking at him like _that_.

They both lean forward at the same time, eyes falling closed as their lips press together softly and something clicks into place in Jason’s heart with an ease and _rightness_ that shocks him. Tim feels absolutely perfect in his arms, warm and solid and safe and _his_.

_Oh, fuck._

They’re breathing hard when they finally separate, staring at each other in flushed shock and wild surmise. “Wow,” Tim finally whispers. He looks down at Jason’s completely exposed and very _happy_ body, and flushes bright red. “Um, maybe we should all find some clothes?” Tim squeaks, curling his body into Jason to help hide his turgid shame.

Jason wraps himself protectively around his tiny (boyfriend? Partner? Lover? _Tim)_ and glares at the others, who all look away and pretend they weren’t totally staring a moment ago.

Zatanna magics up some clothes and zaps away their collective filth and nudity, and Jason can’t help but snort at the clothing theme.

They’re all wearing Superman pajamas. _Nice._ Bruce is blushing and trying to pretend not to see the appreciative, almost hungry look on Clark’s face as the man blatantly stares at him in his new outfit and when the _fuck_ did _that_ happen? Not that Jason objects or anything, Clark’s a decent guy and if he steps outta line, well, they’ve all got Kryptonite.

They’re barefoot, though, and as a human Tim has delicate little feet, so Jason sweeps him up into his arms before striding off toward the house. He hears a startled _“Ooof!”_ and resigned grunt from behind them that means Clark did the same to Bruce, and then an outraged squawk followed by a pained yelp as Dick tries to carry Damian and is bitten for his troubles.

Bruce is still a little wrecked-looking, staring at Jason from his position nestled in Clark’s manly arms. “I’m so sorry for all this, Jay-lad. I just wanted you boys to stay. I… like having you all under my roof.”

Jason feels like such a piece of shit when B looks at him like that, and the others all look pretty damn guilty too. “Well, Jesus fuck B, you coulda just fuckin’ _said_ somethin’. Didn’t hafta go to all this trouble,” Jason blusters.

Bruce stares at him beseechingly, bouncing slightly as Clark strides toward the Manor, and Dick and Damian are both looking at Jason wistfully as well. _Does_ everyone _really want me to come home so bad?_ Jason can hardly believe it, but then he looks down at Tim’s hopeful big blue eyes, and folds. “Fuckin’ _fine,_ we’ll be here in a couple weeks for Thanksgiving, but Baby Bird and I are goin’ back to our apartment tomorrow to stay until then. If I spend much more time with all o’ you right now I’m gonna go fuckin’ crazy again, and we all know how _that_ ends.”

The smile on Bruce’s face is almost sweet enough to give Jason _cavities,_ Jesus Christ. Jason tries not to think about the stupid, happy grin he knows he’s giving the man in return. He has a goddamn _reputation_ to maintain, after all.

Tim snickers, shaking his head, and nestles happily into Jason’s arms as Jason gives him a lopsided smile and presses a kiss to the top of his head. _Can’t believe we ended up here like this. Fuckin’ magic. What the fuck._

Yeah, they’ll head back to their apartment tomorrow, and he knows _just_ what they’re gonna spend the next few days doin’.

*

Alfred has the table set for seven and the meal laid out perfectly so the moment his charges and their guests enter the Manor he is able to welcome them appropriately. He allows himself a twinkle as he observes the upgraded relationship between Master Jason and Master Tim.

 _About time, my dear young sirs,_ he thinks, genuinely happy for the two boys who have been so very good for each other in recent years _. I had hoped this would finally be enough to draw the veil from their eyes and show them what has been there all along._

An eyebrow rises slightly when he notices Mr. Kent slide Master Bruce’s chair out, with a lingering hand on Master Bruce’s shoulder and speaking look of adoration as he assists him into his seat. Master Bruce allows the attentions and sneaks a small press of lips to Mr. Kent’s hand as it slides off his shoulder, a tiny but genuine smile curling the corners of his lips.

 _Far past time, in their case, though better late than never._ Alfred had very nearly despaired long ago of Master Bruce ever allowing Mr. Kent fully into his tender but terribly scarred and fiercely defended heart. _Well, I am so very happy for you, sir. This entire debacle was worth it indeed, if_ this _is the result._

And when the boys chorus that they will _all_ be home for Thanksgiving, Alfred allows himself to indulge in a broad smile. _Ah, I see my plan has succeeded to perfection, in every aspect._

It isn’t as though he manipulated the entire situation into being in order to reach this very desirous end. No, of course he wouldn’t put his charges through so much unnecessary emotional pain and distress, however positive the potential result. Though, if they _insist_ on making foolish, ill-advised choices, well, then surely it isn’t beyond the pale for Alfred to meddle a _little._

 _Just a small word or action here and there, to_ guide _them. Help them along to the right actions and conclusions. Initiate a timely conversation with Master Bruce, where one of the boys would be certain to overhear it. Obtain a tofurkey on a stick and place it in the boys’ refrigerator. Leave out the strawberry jam suggestively, and go shopping at an opportune moment…_

He nods his head in satisfaction as he refills Miss Zatanna’s glass _._

 _It is always most gratifying when one’s plans pay off so abundantly, and with the added benefit of teaching the poor dear boy a much-needed lesson. Perhaps next time he’ll have learned to listen to me._ He considers the unlikely possibility, then shakes his head ruefully. _One may dream, after all._

Alfred catches Master Tim staring at him, narrow-eyed, and smiles benignly at the lad. The boy blinks and smiles back, whatever suspicion he had evaporating, and then returns his attention to his food and Master Jason, who grins besottedly at him.

 _Yes, a fine outcome indeed,_ Alfred thinks with a measure of satisfaction, already beginning to plan a lavish Thanksgiving feast with all of his family gathered together for the first time.

He’ll make all their favorites, of course; it has been so very many years since Master Jason graced them with his presence for a holiday meal. Alfred has dearly missed the lad and it is truly a joy to see him finally taking tentative but hopeful steps to return to the embrace of his family. This entire _incident_ would be worth the trouble, if only for the sake of showing Master Jason he is loved, was _always_ so very loved.

Although Alfred is _not_ looking forward to cleaning and clearing away the offensive monstrosity that is Master Tim’s nest in the Cave. His fastidious soul cringes slightly at the very thought.

 _Ah, well,_ Alfred thinks philosophically as he pours another measure of wine for Master Bruce, whose still-shaky demeanor indicates he is in urgent need of the stimulant. _One cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, after all…_

Alfred surveys his family and smiles benevolently, a wave of peaceful contentment suffusing his gentle soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was ridiculously fun to write. I hope you enjoyed this silliness, and thank you to everyone who read, gave kudos, or commented! It’s awesome to know what people think when they read my stories, and comments definitely show me what’s working and help give me ideas while I’m writing. 
> 
> Drelfina, thanks for the comments that inspired the monster-boy cuddle pile in chapter two and Tim forcibly incorporating Bruce into his hoard in chapter five! And if anyone’s wondering why the chapter count increased from seven to eight, well, that’s thanks to katdemon1895, whose comments inspired a crack-tastic epilogue which I will be posting in two weeks when I get back from vacation. Thanks, katdemon1895, that was a blast to write. Hope you enjoy!


	8. Epilogue

Bruce runs his fingers through his sticky hair, gathering what feels like mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, and an entire turkey leg from atop his head and flinging the offending material to the ground while staring at the perpetrators in narrow-eyed accusation.

Six sets of eyes stare back at him with expressions ranging from guilt to defiance.

Cass and Clark are also staring at him, but their gazes reflect nothing but sweet innocence and he makes sure to smile reassuringly at them before returning his judgmental glare to his clearly guilty sons and almost-daughters.

 _Cass and Clark are innocent and good. I’m sure_ they _had nothing to do with the food fight._

…Or if they did, they were too quick and skilled for him to catch red-handed.

Unlike Tim and Jason, who when he walked back into the dining room a moment ago were giggling and improvising a mashed-potato catapult constructed using rubber bands, batarangs, a serving spoon, and blind hope. Bruce is covered in evidence of the surprising effectiveness of their catapult, and Tim is staring at him in horror-stricken guilt while Jason’s expression holds far more challenge than repentance. Their lips are twitching like they’re about to start laughing again.

Or Babs, who was tossing entire pumpkin pies into the air when Bruce entered the room, laughing gleefully the whole time. Or Steph, who was swinging a loaf of French bread and _slamming_ each pumpkin pie out of the air to splat against the door, all while cackling like a madwoman. It was just Bruce’s bad luck to step through the door at the wrong moment and take a pumpkin pie to the face at what must have been at _least_ 80 mph. Both of them are gazing at him in horror, jaws dropped in surprise.

Or Dick, who was _cartwheeling on the dining room table_ when Bruce entered the room, giggling and dodging the various projectiles Damian was tossing at him. Or _Damian,_ who had thrown a turkey leg at his brother which Dick managed to dodge just in time for it to smack into Bruce’s unsuspecting head. Damian looks appalled and defensive while Dick looked shocked at first before laughing himself right off the table. He is now rolling around in the mess on the floor, still convulsing with uncontrollable laughter.

Bruce stares at them all a moment longer, allowing the tension to ratchet up a few more notches, and then lets them off the hook.

 _It is Thanksgiving, after all, and I’m just so very happy to have you all in one place and safe, high spirits and all._ He smiles softly, and several of them flinch.

He clears his throat. “If you’re done, I invited Zatanna to help us prepare in case the spell that took the boys by surprise last month comes back to haunt us. After all, we aren’t sure where the rogue magician learned it or who else knows of its existence, so we must all be prepared to resist it as effectively as the boys did should it be used against us again.”

The kids blink at him, apparently surprised he isn’t going to chide them for the food fight, and he just turns to head down to the Cave.

 _No need for_ me _to punish them for this, anyway. Just wait until Alfred sees what they did to his dining room…_

*

Zatanna smiles widely as they troop down to the Cave and change because all of their previous clothing is covered in Thanksgiving. Bruce puts on his uniform ‘cause he’s a complete fuckin’ tool. Babs emerges from the elevator in her wheelchair, her clothing somehow miraculously unscathed by the food fight.

 _Yeah, no one wants to be the asshole who nails_ Babs _in the fuckin’ face with the gravy boat. Her vengeance would be swift and fuckin’ terrible._

“Ah, good, everyone’s ready now! You all know why we’re here, so no need to waste time talking about it. I thought we’d start with Bruce. _Vincit omnia veritas!_ ” The magician grins as she shouts the spell, watching with interest as the magic hovers around Batman in a cloud.

Everyone backs a step away from him, even Clark. Jason snorts. _Yeah, after the others turned into a fuckin’ dragon, monstrous fuckin’ ghoul, and undead assassin, I can see how they’re a little cautious. Not everyone can be as goddamn lovable and cuddly as me._

Jason leans forward as the cloud of magic dissipates to reveal… Batman. “Huh,” he says, mildly disappointed. He’d hoped Batman would turn into some horrific monstrosity or maybe a tiny helpless fluffy prey animal so Jason could make fun of him forever. “Did it not fuckin’ work?”

Zatanna frowns and casts the spell again, this time enveloping Jason, Tim, Damian, and Batman. A moment later a fox, a dragon, a ghoul, and Batman emerge from their respective magic clouds. “No, it’s definitely working,” Zatanna says, gesturing to dispel the magic and return them to their normal forms. “As best I can tell, he’s just… _internalized_ the Bat, to the point that he doesn’t differentiate it from himself anymore.”

 _Well, that’s just fuckin’ depressing. Wait…_ “How come we’re not naked?” Everyone stares at Jason, and he fidgets, starting to feel a little judged. “What? Before when we changed back, none of us had any clothes on. Just wonderin’ what the fuck’s different now.”

Zatanna clears her throat, shrugging apologetically. “Yeah, sorry about that. New spell and all; can’t always get them exactly right the first time! I did a little research since then and practiced the spell until I was able to avoid _that_ particular… complication.” She snorts, shaking her head and shuddering slightly. “Nobody needs to see that.”

_Well now I’m kinda fuckin’ offended. We’re all good-lookin’ guys, Z. Eh, whatever, probably feels weird to perv on your friend’s kids._

Batman grunts acknowledgement, then turns to the girls. “The boys all have reasonably defensive alternate forms for this spell built into their given names, and I have my own form of protection; however, all of you are vulnerable to the spell.”

Jason finds himself running through the girls’ names in his mind, and agreeing with the boss. _Fuck, I didn’t think of that, but_ none _of the girls really have anything good to turn into. Shit, good call, B._

“Are you forgetting as Oracle I’m not exposed in the field like the rest of you are?” Babs lifts a brow at Bruce challengingly. “If someone manages to get close enough to me to perform a spell, I have way more problems than a little transformation magic will solve.”

“Still, having protection from the transformation magic won’t hurt. And just think how much fun you’d having terrifying people if you get a monster form!” Dick smiles at her winningly, and Babs rolls her eyes but nods acknowledgement.

Batman clears his throat. “As such, I have selected new middle names for each of you which I will assign and edit into your profiles in the Batcomputer.”

Babs’ brow furrows. “And you think _that_ will be sufficient for us to actually incorporate those new names into our identities to the point we can use them to protect ourselves from this spell? I would have thought an actual legal name change, or long-term nickname would be necessary to satisfy the requirements of the magic.”

“There’s one way to find out.” Batman smirks, types rapidly into the Batcomputer, and then gestures for the girls to come take a look.

 _“What?!”_ Steph squawks, outraged. “Stephanie _Sasquatch_ Brown?! _Oh HELL no!”_

“Barbara Panther Gordon. Well, not bad, I guess, considering the alternatives.” Babs glances wryly over at where Steph is fuming at her suggested middle name and then breaks into amused laughter.

“Cassandra… _Cobra._ Cain.” Cass tilts her head with interest, raising her brows inquiringly at Batman.

“I wanted to select creatures that fit your natural fighting styles so you will be able to adapt to your new forms seamlessly. Stephanie’s fighting style leans toward melee; as a natural brawler, she will benefit greatly from the increased reach and strength of the Sasquatch. Barbara is a dancer who will make use of the panther’s grace and speed, while Cassandra’s innate style and stealth training will translate easily to the cobra’s form and abilities,” Batman explains. “Also, each form I selected has strong natural defenses so none of you will be useless liabilities in your alternate forms, like poor helpless Jason.”

“Hey!” Jason growls, unwilling to admit his alternate form is more cute and cuddly than deadly. “I bit _your_ sad ass like, eight times when I was a fuckin’ fox! Not so helpless with my teeth _embedded in your flesh!”_

Tim takes his hand and rubs it soothingly, and Jason subsides. _Whatever, at least I’m the biggest and meanest bastard of us all in my regular everyday form. Who cares about fuckin’ magic anyway._

Cass rises up on her tiptoes and whispers something in Batman’s ear. He smiles fondly at her, pats her on the head, and nods as he types something else into the Batcomputer. He then gestures at Zatanna who casts the spell over Steph, Babs, and Cass.

The clouds of magic start to slowly dissipate, revealing first a nine-foot tall, heavily muscled figure covered all over in short golden hair. “What the fuck,” it says in Steph’s voice as it looks down at itself. “I’m fucking blonde _Chewbacca.”_ She turns to Tim. “Ex-boyfriend, Batman turned me into a nerd’s _wet dream.”_

Tim looks her up and down appraisingly. “I know _I’m_ ten times more attracted to you right now than I ever was before,” he deadpans, grinning, then squeaks and ducks as Steph swings wildly at him. “Why are you trying to hit me?” He dodges, hands in the air in surrender as he rapidly retreats. “Ten times nothing is still nothing! And don’t tell me you find that insulting, it’s why we _broke up!_ Dating each other didn’t work because we’re both _gay!”_

“So, so gay,” Steph sighs, subsiding. “Why did it take us dating to figure that out?”

Tim shrugs. “At least we’re both in happy steady relationships with people we’re actually attracted to now.”

“Yeah, I’m dating your sister and you’re dating your brother. Nothing dysfunctional about _any_ of that-” Steph laughs as Tim squeaks again and flails in blushing distress until he pauses, mouth dropping open slightly and eyes lighting up like he just thought of something wonderful.

“Make the wookie noise!” he begs, grinning up at Steph playfully.

 _“Ngaaaaarrrrrrgh!”_ She actually fuckin’ pulls it off pretty damn well as she dives at him, hauling her beefy arm back for a roundhouse right cross while Jason yanks his tiny, _idiotic_ little boyfriend out of the line of fire. Steph could knock him on his ass with that punch in her normal body; right now she’d probably take his head right off his shoulders by accident.

“So _awesome!”_ Tim whispers, eyes shining with delight. Jason grumbles and wraps his silly little boyfriend in his big protective arms and glares at Steph, who mutters something vaguely insulting and backs off.

Meanwhile, the second magic cloud is gone and what’s left is… Babs, sitting in her wheelchair? Jason stares, wondering if this is another instance of someone being _really_ into their vigilante identity, kinda like Bruce and the Bat. He squints. _Is she wearing the Batgirl suit…?_

Babs _stands up,_ looks down at the familiar suit she hasn’t worn in years, and then _grins_ , pushing off her cowl. “I can’t believe that worked,” she murmurs dazedly, laughing a little hysterically.

“Oh my god, _Babs!”_ Dick squeals in delight, launching himself at her and scooping her up in a huge hug. “You’re _walking!_ What did you _do?”_

“I just thought, _I’m Batgirl,_ pictured myself like this, and _believed_ it _._ And I guess it was true enough for the spell to work with.” She glances down at the wheelchair, brow furrowed. “Do we _have_ to lift the spell?”

Zatanna is concentrating, examining Babs. “I…. no, I don’t think so. This magic is unique in that every form anyone assumes using this spell is truly _them,_ in a very deep and intrinsic way. But let’s just check and verify.” She murmurs the spell, and Babs vanishes only to be replaced by a lovely, sleek panther with switching tail. Zatanna performs the spell again, and Batgirl is standing there, tears of joy in her eyes. Dick wraps an arm around her shoulder and the two step off to the side, whispering together excitedly.

“Holy shit,” Jason says faintly, and Batman nods, a soft look in his eyes as he watches his eldest son and surrogate daughter’s wondering joy.

Damian is staring fixedly at something in the other direction. Jason turns, following his gaze, and sees… _Batman._

_But B’s still over by Zatanna. What the fuck…?_

“Justice,” the second Batman whispers, rough and menacing, in Cass’ voice. She narrows her eyes and looms, Bat-like.

“Hn,” the original Batman says, eying his daughter approvingly.

“Oh fuck. She changed her name to Cassandra _Batman_ Cain?!”

“Wait, _what?_ That was an _option? THEN WHY AM I A WOOKIE?!”_

“Father, I insist you change my name in the Batcomputer to include the word Batman! If any is to assume your form, it should be I, your true heir!”

“Hey guys, I got this,” Tim’s voice calls from over by the Batcomputer where he apparently scurried the minute Jason was distracted. “Check it out!” And he turns the display so they can all see.

It’s all of their names. And they all have an extra middle name now. _Batman._

“Oh, _fuck_ yeah,” Jason whispers, imagining all the havoc he can wreak if he’s in Batman’s form. _“Do it, Zatanna!”_

She obligingly calls out the spell, laughing as magic engulfs the entire room and dissipates to reveal _all the Batmen._

Well, and Clark, who’s now in his Superman duds. He looks down at himself curiously. “Well, I guess I _do_ truly think of myself as both Superman and Clark Kent…”

But everyone else is Batman. Except…

“Damn it, B!” Stephsquatch slaps the nearest Batman and he falls down. “Oh god oh god oh god I'm sorry are you okay??!” She helps him up.

“Whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you stronger,” he growls in Tim’s voice. _“…I am the night.”_

“Okay, close enough.” She shoves him back down. “Zatanna, why am I the only one who didn’t change into Batman?”

Zatanna stares at her, trying to read the magic currents or what-the-fuck-ever she does. “I think…” she says slowly, “that you experienced a _very_ powerful emotional response when you transformed the first time, and now this is the only form you’ll be able to take with this spell. Besides your natural one, of course.”

Stephsquatch blinks. “Even though the emotional response was just rage, bitterness and hate?”

“Yep!” Zatanna smiles encouragingly, and Stephsquatch sighs. A Batman pats her on the back.

“You’ll be okay, Stephsquatch!” The solicitous Batman says in Dick’s disgustingly cheerful voice, and Stephsquatch punches him into the ground next to where Tim is just struggling to his feet.

_Fuck that’s hilarious. I bet we’ve all been callin’ her Stephsquatch in our heads, Dickie’s just the only one fuckin’ dumb enough to say it out loud._

Jason kinda wants to help, but knows better than to get involved when Steph is getting into it with any of his brothers. She’s fuckin’ _relentless._

He watches a couple of Batmen who must be Babs and Cass sparring on the mats, testing out their new abilities and reflexes, as another Batman surreptitiously reaches for things in high places, smiling joyfully when he can actually get them without standing on his tiptoes and then glancing around scowling to see if anyone noticed. Damian, checking out what will probably be close to his own eventual adult height and build.

 _Shit, Damian’s a cute little fucker when he quits trying to be such an asshole,_ Jason thinks fondly. He rolls his shoulders, slightly surprised to realize he doesn’t feel much different from usual. A little heavier on his feet, a bit thicker in the middle… he grins cockily at the confirmation he’s just as buff and strong as the big bad Bat.

Clark glances around the room too, and then freezes, a blush forming on his high cheekbones. “Oh Rao,” he whispers throatily, eyes sliding from one Batman to the next and darkening as his tight suit _hides nothing_ of his physical response to all the versions of his boyfriend jumping, climbing, and rolling around the Cave.

 _Gross._ Jason doesn’t need to see this shit.

Clark’s eyes lock on Jason’s and suddenly he’s _right there._

 _“Bruce,”_ Clark whispers hoarsely. “I can’t…” He swallows thickly, eyes darting around the room looking at all the Batmen in various states of flexing and sparring. One is now doing a one-armed handstand on the Batcomputer and laughing uproariously, legs falling open obscenely wide as he does the splits in the air. Another is bending over to touch his toes, booty sticking out, a third’s in downward-facing dog, ass in the air, and two more are now _twerking with the Stephsquatch on the Batmobile_ which is blasting club music with a fast beat.

Clark’s mouth drops open slightly and his eyes darken even more as he stares, practically drooling at the display.

“Sweet merciful Rao, I’m _surrounded by temptation!_ I can’t stay here and be unaffected, I’m sorry! Bruce, I _need_ you,” the man whimpers, grabbing a nice big handful of _Jason’s ass_ and fuckin’ _squeezing._

 _“BAD TOUCH!”_ Jason yelps loudly as he reflexively knees Supes right in the fuckin’ nads.

 _Fuckin’_ ouch _, shit, he_ does _have goddamn balls of steel!_

 _“Jason?!”_ Clark’s face is a study in horror and distress, and he recoils, then disappears, reappearing a moment later with an icepack for Jason’s hurting knee. “Oh Rao I’m so _sorry_ I thought you were _Bruce-”_

“Did you just _feel up_ _my son?”_ Another Batman growls as he materializes out of nowhere to bend protectively over Jason, gently examining his knee and glaring at Superman. After determining the knee is uninjured, Batman rises to his feet, still glaring at his errant partner.

Clark’s face whitens at Batman’s judgement and he gulps nervously. “I’m _sorry,_ I thought he was you! All your heartbeats sound the same right now!” His hands flutter in distress.

Batman stares at him, then rolls his eyes and grabs Clark’s hand, tugging him away. “Your mistake is understandable. But you will still need to be _punished.”_ He smirks, then pulls Clark in for a thorough kiss. The Kryptonian melts into his embrace, and then they both just stare at each other sappily making heart-eyes for a full minute before Bruce starts tugging Clark toward the stairs. “Let’s go take care of that now, shall we.”

Clark whimpers, following _very_ willingly.

Jason gags in disgust at the horny look on his Batdad’s face as he drags his boyfriend out of the Cave.

Batman calls distractedly over his shoulder, “You’re all sufficiently protected from the spell now; continue training and we’ll all meet upstairs later for hot cocoa. In about an hour.” Kissing and moaning noises ensue during which Jason steadfastly refuses to look while trying not to barf.

Batman groans, then grunts. “Make that two hours!” His voice sounds way deeper than normal, _gross._

The pair disappears, leaving the Cave in a chaos of dancing Batmen and Stephsquatch. Jason shrugs and joins the twerkers on the Batmobile. He’s pretty sure that one on the left is Tim… The Batman in questions winks at him with a very _familiar_ slow roll of his hips, and Jason grins. _Yep, definitely Tim._

“This is kinda nice, y’know? We all got fuckin’ choices now if this magic comes up again.”

Tim nods, still twerking. “Sometimes the monster or fox forms might be the most appropriate response…”

Dick rolls out of his handstand splits and twerks over to them, grinning. “And sometimes, the answer is an _army of Batmen!”_

“And Sasquatch!” Steph contributes.

“And Stephsquatch,” Dick agrees.

“Um, can we change back now? I need to pee and I think I might actually die if I have to do that with this body.”

 _Ugh, gross._ Jason hadn’t thought of that, and suddenly feels a pressing need to _not be in this form Jesus fuckin’ Christ I don’t wanna know what my fuckin’ Batdad is packin’-_

Zatanna snorts with laughter, and complies. As the magic clouds coalesce around all of them, Jason has a wonderful, _terrible_ thought. “Hey Dickie, you think you could actually become a literal _dick_ with this spell?” And Jason grins like a bastard, _knowing_ his brother won’t be able to avoid thinking about it now at the critical moment-

Dick’s head whips around and his eyes widen in horrified betrayal as Jason doubles over and _chokes_ on laughter. _Fuck yeah, this shit’s gonna be so fuckin’ hilarious!_

 _“Oh my god,”_ Tim, now back in his normal body, whispers as the magic dissipates, stumbling away in appalled shock from the _enormous, fleshy, disembodied penis writhing around on the Cave floor._

Jason can’t stop laughing, but he manages to catch his staggering boyfriend and whisk him out of the path of the blindly flailing _literal_ Dick. “Oh fuck,” he wheezes. “Oh my fuckin’ fuck, this is goddamn _gold.”_

The huge penis rears its head up at his words, apparently somehow able to _hear_ him, and it whips around to face him… at least, it aims its fuckin’ fat head at him, and then-

“It fuckin’ _winked_ at me,” Jason whispers in stunned horror, quickly beginning to regret _everything._ “What the fuck.” He backs away a slow step. “Dickie? Can you hear me? _Dickiebird?!”_ As Jason backs away faster and faster, the gigantic penis the size of an adult man begins somehow _crawling across_ _the ground toward him,_ inchworm-style, enormous saggy balls dragging sadly along behind.

 _“Change him back change him back oh for the love of_ fuck _please change him back!”_ Jason screams, backing up until he hits the wall and then clawing his way up the Cave wall with his bare hands as the girls squeal with appalled laughter and Tim flees to hide safely behind the Batcomputer, the adorable little traitor.

Damian is still just standing frozen, mouth agape as he stares in abject shock at what has become of his favorite brother.

The enormous disembodied penis makes it to the Cave wall and starts feeling around blindly, head flopping crazily as it tries to reach up to get to Jason who squeaks and yanks his feet out of reach. _“ZATANNA!”_ he bellows, and she manages to stop laughing just long enough to gasp out the spell.

Jason’s grip slips and he falls just as the magic dissipates to reveal Dick… who catches Jason in his arms and _smiles,_ the dim Cave light glinting off his yellow eyes. _“Little Wing, that wasn’t very nice,”_ he whispers gently right in Jason’s ear, slowly stroking his cheek with a single gleaming talon.

Oh fuck, Jason did _not_ think this shit through.

 _“Urge to kill… rising…”_ Dick’s rasping voice sends chills down Jason’s spine, and just as he lets out a manful whimper of sheer terror there’s a rush of wings and wrenching claws and suddenly he’s in the air while Dick’s shouting protests but unable to pursue.

Jason twists and clutches desperately at Tim, wrapping his arms around the dragon’s neck and helping maneuver them so when Tim reaches the Cave ceiling and clings upside-down to the various stalactites there with all four feet, Jason’s able to lie comfortably on his boyfriend’s belly. “Fuck, thanks Baby Bird,” Jason gasps with real gratitude. He edges up to peer over Tim’s shoulder at the distant Cave floor, where Dick appears to be attempting to scale the walls using his talons and the girls are all laughing too hard to try to interfere.

“No problem, Jay.” Tim folds his wings and tightens his grip on the stalactites, apparently settling in for a long-term siege. “I’ve got you.” He nuzzles Jason’s cheek and Jason smiles, relaxing in the safety of his boyfriend’s embrace. Tim’s dragon form is still surprisingly warm and comfy. Maybe he’ll have a nap…

“Grayson,” Damian’s imperious tones float up from below. “We should develop tactics for the deployment of your additional alternate form in battle.”

_The fuck._

“What?” Dick sounds completely baffled. “Dami, _why_ would I ever want to use that form again? It was _horrible!_ Just… _why?”_

“It was formidable enough to send Todd, a stalwart warrior too idiotic to know the meaning of the word fear, clambering for his life up a stone wall while whining and cringing like a cur. I am _confident_ anything effective enough to frighten _Todd_ like that will be of use in the future against rogues.”

Jason buries his head in Tim’s scaled chest, and _laughs_ as Babs, Dick, Steph and Cass begin brainstorming ideas with Damian for effective ways to weaponize Dick’s gigantic, terrible shame _._

_Jesus fuck, this fuckin’ family._

*

Bruce sips his cocoa contentedly and allows his gaze to travel over his family, who are ensconced in numerous chairs and couches around the room enjoying the cocoa and platters of various types of cookies Alfred provided after scolding Bruce’s more rambunctious children into cleaning the mess of Thanksgiving in the dining room.

Cass and Clark had helped clean as well even though they had no part in making the mess, because both are too kind and innocent for their own good. Bruce melts slightly more into his boyfriend’s warm comforting embrace, enjoying Clark’s hum of pleasure and the sheer unmitigated joy of being here with all of his beloved family together.

He’s still a bit stunned that this is actually happening. _I never imagined I could have this. Everyone I love most, in one room, and actually_ happy _to be here. They came here… just because I asked them to._ The corners of his mouth tug up irresistibly at the marvelous warmth in his heart.

Jason and Tim are curled together on the other couch, smiling and laughing at something Steph just said. It hadn’t been too much effort to coax the pair down from the Cave ceiling so Zatanna could transform Tim into a human again, especially when Clark offered to fly Bruce up there to talk to them. It also helped that Clark had bargained Dick down to a reasonable punishment for Jason’s prank.

Dick had happily agreed to forgive Jason for the simple price of unimpeded brotherly cuddles during the next weekly family movie night. _I’ll have to get some pictures of that…_ Bruce sighs at the happy rush of emotion that wells up at the thought of his beloved children bonding with each other and him in his home.

Barbara and Cass are sitting with Alfred, telling him about the magical ridiculousness in the Cave and laughing with delight as the butler shakes his head, chuckling warmly at the children’s antics.

Dick and Damian are lying on the rug in front of the fireplace deep in discussion over some kind of battle strategies Bruce is trying very hard _not_ to listen to; it sounds like something to do with an enormous _penis,_ but that can’t possibly be right. No more than their apparent plan to… _defeat enemies by ejaculating forcefully enough to propel them into walls and knock them unconscious?_

No, impossible. He must have misunderstood. He shakes his head, smiling.

Bruce looks around again, feeling an unfamiliar and wonderful deep sensation of peace and contentment washing through him.

Clark wraps his arms around him and tugs him back deeper into his embrace. His bright blue eyes drift down to the worn, comfortable Superman pajamas Bruce no longer needs to hide, and his handsome face lights up with sheer happiness, sparking an answering helpless wave of love in Bruce.

_We would never have confessed to each other, had it not been for that ridiculous spell and the boys’ antics._

_I can hardly believe this is truly real._ Bruce looks at Alfred from across the room filled with their family, and smiles. _Despite the misunderstandings and distress, the bumps in the road to get here, I wouldn’t change a thing. It was all worth it, my old friend._

Alfred meets his eyes, and raises his cup with a fond smile.

Bruce smirks to himself. _This just goes to show I was right all along, Alfred._ He rests his head on Clark’s shoulder, and _grins._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …And that’s a wrap! Thanks again for reading, giving kudos, and commenting! Katdemon1895, thanks again for your comment that inspired that epilogue! 
> 
> Oh, and as for the Dick transforming into a penis thing, a couple of people mentioned it in the comments and really, when I saw a chance how could I NOT put it in the story? So thanks for that, Drelfina and Balloonacy. I hope you’re both very proud of what you have done.
> 
> Thank you all for joining me on this crazy romp, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it!
> 
> :D


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